Disclaimer: Sometimes, a story you read captures your imagination so much, you pester the author to let you in on the fun. If they're a mate and they like the idea of sharing the work along with the madness, you might find yourself in a series of fortunate events that turns a one-shot into a succession of stories about Hogwarts couples and what happens when the lights go out. Funnykido, amiga, eres muy amable, which is just a Spanish way of saying thanks for being my writing tag-team partner and allowing my twisted imagination to form this chapter! Gracias! Kerichi

Are You Afraid Of The Dark?

Chapter 2- Hagrid and Maxime

Flouncing was hard to do when a woman was as big-boned as Madam Maxime, but the Frenchwoman could not remain with Hagrid for another moment. She was too upset. He'd called her a half-giant, confided his sad parental history and invited her to do the same. The conversation had utterly ruined the Yule Ball for her. She'd been so pleased to dance with a man who made her feel feminine, delicate...even more pleased to go outside...and then...

"Assez! Enough of ze zinking of 'Agrid and 'ow vairy merveille every'zing was until 'E 'ad to go and put 'is big foot in ze mouth!"

"Madame Maxime?"

Turning with amazing quickness for a witch her size, the formidable lady saw the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour, standing on the path behind her with that 'Ogwarts boy, Roger some'zing. She tried to smile graciously, but the way the pair stepped back several paces said her expression was scary, not serene. Automatically, the woman started to speak French, "Moi je deconne..." Annoyed with herself, she changed to barbaric English and started again, "I'm talking nonsense...not to you...return to ze ballroom children..." She watched the pair nod and rush off. Large dark eyes noticed the Potions Master blasting apart rose bushes in the distance. A small smile transformed her striking, olive skinned face into something almost pretty. Fleur was too French to be caught snogging, as these unmannered people called it. Frustrated at not being snogged, herself, Maxime stomped inside. As she passed, the water in the fountain beside the front entrance rippled with the vibrations of her large footsteps.

"I say...you're looking...er...enormously lovely tonight, Madame...would you care to go someplace...uh...private to talk?"

Propping up an expanse of wall, the Frenchwoman looked down at the professor who was currently trying to chat her up. Manny Hands, the Muggle Studies teacher, had that gleam in his eye that she'd seen before. She lowered her voice to a menacing rumble, "Faut pas rever! In your dreams, leetle man! I know your type, wiz ze liking for ze big women- pervert! Do not talk to me again, meester, or I will show you how good zese fingers are...at cracking nuts!"

The little piss ant's eyes almost bugged out of his head at her threatening speech- or perhaps it was the sight of her thick, opal bedecked fingers that scared him. Either way, the dog scurried off, tail between his legs, leaving her in peace. And alone...always alone, save for the company of those she did not wish to be with. Watching the dancers circling the floor, the students talking so happily with one another at the tables, Maxime felt wistful, and envious. She wanted a partner, too. With a sigh so deep it blew out the magicked lanterns at several nearby tables, the generously proportioned woman left the Hall. Without thought, her steps led her out of the castle and across the grounds to a Hut which had a candle, softly glowing in a window. Concealed by the shadowy darkness, she stopped and stared.

Hagrid was standing outside his home...washing off in a rain barrel. His awful, hairy suit discarded, the half-giant was stripped to the waist. Trickles of water ran down the mouth-watering expanse of firm, muscled flesh. Mon Dieu! She'd never imagined the man looked so...well...underneath those layers of shaggy clothing. It was hard to swallow, her mouth was completely dry. He bent to duck his head into the water, giving the watcher an excellent view of his arse in form-fitting trousers. My, my, my...she'd been a fool to walk away from such a fine... The man flung back his hair and shook it vigorously, shooting water droplets out in a range commensurate with his large frame. Several icy cold drops struck the woman, who gasped, making the man demand,

"Who's there?"

Hagrid scanned the pools of darkness surrounding his Hut. He'd been trying to get rid of that bloody Eu de Cologne he'd poured on earlier in the evening. The smell was just another reminder of how piss-poor he was with women. He'd thought that Madame Maxime and he had somethin' between them. Rubeus had tried to tell her how amazin' it was that they shared a similar hist'ry, could understand each other in a way no one else could. He'd hoped she'd tell him her story, so they could really get to know each other, and maybe even... The cold outside was barely felt- it was the frozen heart inside his body that made him shiver. Rejection always hurt, but tonight- Maxime's denial of him, and who she was fair sickened the gentle giant. A huge shadow moved forward, into the light. He gaped,

"Madame Maxime?"

Clothed in black silk that made his hands itch to smooth their way over the impressive hills and valleys, the Frenchwoman's lips curved,

"Please, call me Maxime...'Agrid."

An inner voice told him, 'Don' chust stan' there like a lummox, say somethin'!'. Wringing his hands in agitation, Hagrid asked hesitantly, "I don' rightly ha' any o' that coffee you Frenchies like to drink, but if you wait a bittie, I could go get some up at the castle..." Och, Aye, he was the greatest scunner that ever lived. Did he hafftae say 'you Frenchies'? He'd ram his great stupid head into the wall if she'd not think him more daft than ever. His heart leapt when the beauty said,

"Non...no, don't go...tea would be vairy nice."

Rubeus became aware of several things at once. He was wet, half naked, and the woman he'd been dreaming about actually wanted to come into his home and drink tea with him. Surreptitiously, he pinched his leg. It hurt. This was real. Awkwardly opening the door and gesturing for Madame to precede him, Hagrid followed her into his home- every inch of exposed skin tingling at her proximity.

Looking around the large, yet compact space, Maxime's eyes lingered on the huge bed. The quilt looked very soft. Tearing her gaze away, she pointed to the fireplace, "Is zat where you do your cooking? Is eet vairy 'ard to do?"

Pulling out a massive chair from the table, the half-giant had to put some effort into pushing the seat back in once the woman had sat down. She was no fragile flower that was certain. Praise Merlin. Hanging his towel on a peg and quickly clothing himself in a soft white shirt 'Mione had given him for Christmas- that lass was puir talented when it came to transfigurin' things- he moved to put the kettle on. Waiting for the water to boil, he stated hopefully, "You comin' to see me...that means you're not mad at me no more?"

"Non, non, eef I 'ave given you zat impression, I am sorry. I am vairy sensitive about my size, and...I do not know who my true parents are...I was adopted...will you forgive me?"

The giant man's heart melted. Aw, the puir wee burd, not knowin' who be her folks. Not even Norbert his beloved dragon had affected his emotions so much. Overcome, he took a step forward and engulfed Maxime in a hug that lifted her out of the chair and off the floor. After a moment, her arms crept around his neck. Looking into her face, his gaze lowered to the lips that were parting, lifting...screeching,

" 'Agrid, ze candle...eet 'as burnt out! Pleeze, light ano'zer one!"

Sheepishly, Rubeus admitted, "I be terrible sorry abou' this...but I don' have another one. I fergot to get some more...bein' distracted as I've bin lately." Noticing her frantic look, and the way her grip was slowly choking him, the man chuckled, "Yer not afeart o' the dark, are ye lass?"

Forcing herself to release what was quickly becoming a death grip, Maxime courageously took a step away from the safety of his arms. "Non! Eet is just zat...I do not care for it...French are valiant! Frenchwomen are not frightened of any'zing!" White teeth flashed. Tugging the beard that had felt so soft when it brushed her cheek, the smiling man moved to the hearth and grabbed the kettle, making tea for the two of them in large, sturdy mugs. He was polite enough not to point out how rapidly she'd sidled closer to the fire, or how her eyes darted apprehensively at every flickering shadow. Perhaps he enjoyed having her scoot her chair until it rubbed his. Or maybe he liked the way she pressed against his side as she stirred her tea with a unique teaspoon. It was golden, and the handle was in the shape of a dragon. Taking a sip of her 'tea', Maxime looked down in disbelief- it tasted like the finest French Roast!

"That be an enchanted spoon what makes everythin' a person stirs wit' it to their exact taste. Good, eh?"

Returning the smile that was starting to make gigantic butterflies swoop in her middle, the woman nodded so vigorously, her hair, coiled into a decorous knob at the back slipped from its pins and slid free. How embarrassing. Hagrid was staring at the inky sheet of long, black hair. He probably wondered why a mature woman would bother to keep such inconvenient locks. Long, slightly calloused fingers reached out and softly rubbed the hair between a thumb and forefinger. Reverently, he breathed,

"Blimey, it's beautiful...may I?"

She nodded faintly. It was so hard to take a deep breath. That must be why it was so hard to think. Lack of oxygen... In the firelight, Rubeus gently stroked his fingers down her hair then brought it to his face. Brushing the ends across his lips in a way that made her breath even more ragged, he sniffed it and smiled,

"Smells right puirty...like flowers...you're like a flower, Maxime...but even puirtier."

Her common sense told her to say 'taratata', which in crude English translated to gobshite, but her French passion overcame her French practicality and the woman threw herself into the half-giant's arms instead, murmuring, "Oh, 'Agrid!"

Overwhelmed by the sensation of large, soft lips pressing against his, Rubeus did what any man enflamed with desire would do- he kissed her with everything he had. She didn't protest that he was too rough, or too large...she started speaking French. He didn't rightly know what all she was sayin', but Maxime's words sounded like music...and like an invitation. Gently tugging her up and over toward the big bed softly illuminated by the flickering flames, Hagrid took her up on it. They hugely enjoyed themselves, and felt an enormous surge of a love that was so great it connected two lonely souls who had nothing and everything in common.

A/N Imagine if you will, a really buff wrestling chick reaching through the ropes to tag her partner. That wouldn't be me, I'm more tennis than contact sports, but it gives you a mental image of the way Funnykido's going to jump into the ring next chapter with her story of another Hogwarts couple who'll face their fear of the dark...and each other...Muahahahaha!