Damn it.
Damn it.
Of all of the people.
All of the multitudes of witches and wizards she could have been matched with.
She had to have been matched with Parkinson.
'Didn't even know Parkinson swung that way,' you think to yourself as you pace about your living room.
Why of all people.
Couldn't she have been matched with you.
You'd been on the cusp of something in 6th year.
Had it not meant anything?
Surely the spell must have overlooked something.
A pop is heard and you turn your head up to see the source of the sound.
Fleur, in all her splendor.
She looks at you with an unreadable expression but makes no move to leave.
"Did zat woman mean anyzing to you?" she asks, gaze unfailing as she stares into you, gaze searching.
You take a shuddering breath before answering, "You weren't the only one who had something to lose in all of this,"
She doesn't respond immediately but her gaze does not leave yours.
"Did you love 'er?" Fleur asks after a moment.
"Does it matter?" You respond in turn as you take a seat on a nearby couch, the emotions course through you. The memories, the thoughts of what could have been.
What should have been.
You would really rather have this conversation with anybody else and you don't expect Fleur to stay around to continue it.
So it surprises you to feel the couch dip, you look up to see Fleur seated beside you.
"We 'ave both lost somezing in all of zis," she states looking forward.
You stare at her for a moment, expecting a jibe or snappy comment of some sort.
But it does not come.
"Zose we expected to be wiz moved on without us," you startle at her words.
"And 'ave left us to pick up ze pieces," she finishes with a thick undercurrent of sadness.
"I'm sorry for what happened last night," you respond in an offer of peace.
Regardless of the bickering and snide remarks you'd both made at each other the past few months, she still hadn't deserved to be hurt the way she was.
She says nothing for a brief moment before answering, "It was really easy for 'im to zimply move on," she states as a few tears escape her eyes.
You dig into your pants pocket and dig out your handkerchief for her to wipe her eyes with.
She provides you with a simple "merci" before taking your offered handkerchief.
"Who was she to 'ou," she asks as she dabs at her eyes.
"Daphne?" your response.
"Oui," she responds.
"Nothing and yet everything," you start as you allow yourself to reminisce to the days of your 6th year, before the world went to shit and you had to run for your life as deranged criminals hunted you and your friends down.
Fleur says nothing as she looks at you expectantly.
"We were paired together for charms on the first day of 6th year, she was in Slytherin house, a rival house to the one I was in," you continue.
"Ze 'old and red house oui?" she asks, you nod in turn.
"The very one, initially I was intrepid about working with a Slytherin, their house has never taken kindly to my kind," you pause as the memories flood in.
She looks at you for a moment before nodding, "mixed-blood," she states, her own experience as a witch of mixed blood status in this country is enough of an explanation.
You nod at her correct assessment, "I expected someone bigotted much like the girls I'd seen her associating with throughout our previous years of schooling, but -" the words get caught in your throat as you remember to those simple days when you'd both study in the library or under the great oak tree on the grounds.
"She was different," Fleur states, her gaze fell upon you as you turned to meet her gaze.
"Yeah," your simple response.
"She was special to you," Fleur states once more.
"In so many ways," you respond.
"Did you love 'er?" she asks.
You hesitate for a moment to gather your thoughts, did you? Had you?
"No, but I wanted to," you respond, she nods in turn and hands you your handkerchief back.
"It iz a lovely material," she comments as you take the cloth in hand.
"Thank you, m-my mum helped me stitch my initials into it when I was 7," you state.
You don't explain further, but she nods in understanding. How much this small piece of cloth means to you. Small mementos from when you had your parents, no doubt she must have heard it from Bill or one of the Weasley's what befell your parents. How your need to keep them safe resulted in them being lost to you forever.
You both sit in silence as you take in the conversation you've just had.
A breath of fresh air after the tumultuous few months you've had together.
"E made ze most of ze situation non," Fleur states and you nod in turn.
"Left me to suffer alone while 'e played 'appy familie," she states with a fury.
"I don't kn-"
"Why should I not do ze same, non?" she says as takes a hold of your wrist, gets up and all but drags you up from your seated position.
"F-Fleur wait," you try to reason as the french national all but drags you throughout the house.
"I-we deserve to be 'appy too non?" she asks as she suddenly stops in front of the door leading to the back garden.
You can only nod and provide a tenuous smile of your own as you try to comprehend your partner's logic.
Sure you deserved to be happy, everyone did. It's why you fought in a war and were at the helm of it, for the right for all peoples of whatever blood status and creature blood alike to live in peace and happiness.
"Bon," she states as she opens the door and pulls you alongside.
"So, 'ow do 'ou do zis?" she asks as you stand before some of your recently planted vegetables.
"Gardening?" you ask, if anything in an attempt to better assess what's happening in this moment. Fleur is really asking you to teach her how to garden? Of all the things.
"Oui, 'ou spend a lot of time 'ere and it seems to be of import to 'ou," she states with a determination.
You internally chuckle at what's about to transpire.
"Well first-
- xxxxx -
Hours later after Fleur's gone back inside to change out of her nicer clothes and into a borrowed pair of shorts, t-shirt and trainers do you set about explaining the finer points of Gardening.
Really the only reason you took it up in the first place was because your mum loved it and since losing them to an undetermined amount of time. It was a way for you to feel close to her. To both of your parents really as your dad would often help her out on the weekends when they weren't at their practice.
As you watched Fleur get her hands and knees dirty you couldn't help but feel it oddly reminiscent of your parents.
Later in life you'll tell your kids this is where it all started, where your romance with their mother began. But that's in the future, a time you know not off yet.
Today you're simply an 18 year old young woman just shy of her 19th birthday, looking at the woman you've been married to through an odd twist of fate.
Xxxxxx -
"Mon amour I can't seem to find Margaery's white boots," the distinguishable voice of Fleur rings out as you make your way through what looks to be your home although with an odd feeling of warmth to it.
You look around, the walls are littered with framed photographs of blonde and wavy haired children.
You reach over to touch a frame that's bigger than the rest, one of an older you and an older Fleur by the looks of it, surrounded by five small children of varying ages. No sooner do you look at the photograph then do you feel the sudden collision of a small body latch itself to your legs.
You look down.
A small child with wavy brown hair oddly reminiscent of yours looks up at you.
"I found Margy's boot mummy!" the small child exclaims, you can only look in awe at this small child as you take them in. They've taken after you yet hold traces of Fleur in their features.
Is this some kind of dream? You wonder to yourself as you place your hands on the child's shoulders.
"Good job Loras, lets get it to your maman and Margy yeah?" you find yourself saying, the child in turn squeals as you lift them up into your arms and they wave around the boot in their left hand.
You make your way through the house toward an open door as you hear squeals of laughter emanate from within.
Making your way into the room you are greeted by a sight to behold.
A slightly older version of Fleur stands in the middle of what appears to be a flower themed room. Two little beds are on opposite sides with three blonde haired children and a small wavy haired child between them.
"Ah zere you are! Merci!" Fleur exclaims as you make your way inside, small child in your arms. She makes her way over to you and quickly pecks you on the lips before placing another on the top of the small child's head and taking the boot he holds in his arms.
The entire scene is unreal.
Like something out of a movie.
You place the small child down and they immediately run towards one of the small beds, climbing atop and wiggling themselves amongst who you assume are their siblings.
You find yourself unable to take your eyes off of these children, each an odd mixture of yourself and Fleur.
This can't possibly be real.
"Is everyzing alright," Fleur asks and you immediately turn your attention to her.
She's beside you as you watch the children play amongst themselves, with the older ones re-ennacting some sort of play for the giggling younger ones.
You can't help the swell within your chest.
You feel the gentle touch of Fleur's arms as they wrap around yours and cradle you in the gentle and loving way that lovers do.
And you can't help but say, "I'm so happy,"
You startle awake, eyes towards the ceiling as your vision comes into focus.
What in merlins name was that!?
You sit upright as you struggle to get your bearings in check.
The images are still clear in your head.
Giggling children and a loving Fleur.
Could that have been a vision of the future?
You shake your head.
No.
Not in a million years.
You quickly get out of bed and set about getting yourself ready to greet the day.
You take a quick shower and change into a fresh pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt then make your way downstairs to make yourself breakfast.
The first thing that startles you is a buttery smell as you make your way towards the kitchen.
The second is Fleur, as you watch her filter about the kitchen in what looks to be an apron.
"Pardon?" you find yourself saying as you make your way into the kitchen.
She startles slightly at seeing you and gives you a slight smile, "I made petit-déjeuner, sit sit!" she says as she all but leads you to the kitchen table and ushers you into a chair.
What greets you is an aray of croissants, fruits and jams.
"You didn't have to do this Fleur," you find yourself saying as you take in the food around you.
She shakes her head in turn, "I did," she starts as she looks around as if checking to make sure she hasn't forgotten anything.
"After 'ow i've treated 'ou, I did," she explains as she takes a seat across from you. A small sad smile on her face.
"I said ze most 'orrible of zings to you on our first night…'ou did not deserve zat," she utters as she looks down at her plate.
You can only stare at her as she looks to struggle within herself.
"It was a stressful situation for everyone," you respond and she looks up at you in an instant.
"Non zat does not excuse mai behaviour," she insists as you look at her for a hard moment before nodding.
"Start over?" you find yourself saying, you don't know if its the odd pull you find yourself feeling or the dream you've just had. But you offer a lopsided smile as the french national all but looks at you in slight shock before giving you a grateful smile of her own.
"Bonjour I am Fleur Dela- Granger your new wife," she introduces as she looks at you with a mixture of relief and something else that you can't quite place.
Regardless you offer a smile in turn and respond to her introduction, "Nice to meet you Fleur, I'm Hermione and welcome to your home, I hope we can get along,"
She smiles back at you at your words and nods.
"I 'ould like zat,"
Xxxxxx -
You're not not entirely sure how you found yourself at a bar at quarter to ten but yet here you are sat on a chair in a bar in the nicer side of London.
Fleur's gone off to grab your drinks while you look around.
She'd asked you out to dinner when you'd asked her what she'd like you to make for dinner that evening.
Her ask came as a surprise to you, but you'd accepted nonetheless.
You'd suggested a french bistro not far from your residence and she'd thanked you for the suggestion.
Dinner had been quaint.
You'd made small talk and overall had had a rather good time of it. Had talked about career aspirations and family life.
Its how she'd learned of your snafu with finding your parents.
She'd looked genuinely sorry for your situation and you couldn't help but feel touched for the sentiment.
It was there that you'd learned about her situation back home and how her parents had been insistent on her returning back to france to take her spot as her father's heir.
Family traditions and all that.
She was a free-spirit when it came down to it and wasn't quite ready to settle into the role life had saw fit to place her in.
You could understand that in a way and made sure to reassure her that you'd be supportive of whatever she'd like to do in that respect.
I mean if you were to be stuck as spouses you might as well try to help in someway.
Right?
It was the logical thing to do.
"Heeeeeyy pretty lady," a baritone voice takes you away from your reverie as you come back into focus.
"Pardon?" you respond as a man stands before you.
A man of average height with black hair, dressed in a muggle type fashion. Classing jeans and a button up.
"You alone?" he says once more as he leers at you.
You'd opted for a simple dress tonight, a red-dress that you'd worn to Charlie and Rolf's union a couple weeks back.
"Um sorry, no I'm with some-," you make an attempt to explain before he cuts you off.
"Aww don't be like that love, 'ow about a drink?" he says as he learns into you, in an effort to get ever closer into your personal space.
"No thank you, as I said-," you attempt to explain once more while taking a step back.
What happens next will perplex you for the next several nights, but it happens in an instant.
"I 'would appreciate it if 'ou would stop 'itting on mai wife!" the forceful tone of Fleur speaks out, voice elevated as the man startles at the volume and turns around to come face to face with an irate blonde.
Whatever fight he had leaves him the second he turns around and stares at the visage of Fleur, if looks could kill this would be it.
He mutters a weak "sorry," before scampering away like a dog with its tail between its legs.
No sooner does he leaves than does she walk over to you and hands you your drink.
"Thanks?" you say, while you could have probably have handled the bloke you're not really in the business of starting any sort of fight with the french national and so you gratefully take the offered drink and allow the witch to regal you with the journey it took to get it.
- xxxxxx -
"Thank you for tonight, I had a really good time," you find yourself saying as you make your way into your home.
Fleur turns around as she makes her way inside the home and you nearly run into her.
You startle back slightly as you are suddenly glaringly aware of your close proximity to the other witch.
You don't utter a word and neither does she.
Neither making a move to break the odd connection you've found yourselves in.
You don't know how long you stay in that position before you find yourself backing up and wishing Fleur a goodnight. Followed by a quick escape up the stairs and into your room.
You can't deny the pounding in your heart as you feel it go pitter patter against your ribcage.
You look up towards the ceiling as you lean against your closed door.
"I'm fucked"