Should you have suggested you stay home with the kids?
Probably.
Did you think it'd be this bad?
Not at all.
Overconfidence was never your strong suit.
Hard-headedness yes.
Most definitely.
It was that strong will that landed you in this situation.
Several months ago when Fleur had received an owl about a reunion at her old Alma Mater, you'd been too wrapped up in your own preparation for Minister of Magic to really pay much attention.
She'd chastised you with a "You are not listening to a word zat I am saying,"
And in your effort to prove her wrong you'd replied "When do we leave?"
You really should have thought that through.
This was the first year all of the kids were at Hogwarts.
You'd just kissed your youngest goodbye as they boarded the train and left to start their first year.
Making sure to remind your older three to look out for them, as they'd mumbled a "Yes mum" in turn.
Your political career had been on an upward trajectory since you'd first stepped foot into the Ministry fifteen years prior.
Working your way up the ladder and enacting change for the betterment of all living creatures.
Yes.
You'd had much success in bringing about fair legislation while working under Kingsly the last few years before he'd retired.
This being the year he'd decided not to run for re-election.
The year you would finally put your foot forward.
And run for Minister of Magic.
Your wife and children had been very supportive all summer.
They'd sat through countless rehearsals as you went over your talking points and rehashed your ideas for future pieces of legislation.
You were positive you'd bored the hell out of the lot of them, save your youngest daughter.
You were determined to have it all.
Yes.
You'd fought in a war.
Had helped your best friend defeat Voldemort.
Had married the woman of your dreams.
Had five wonderful children.
Enacted change within the Ministry.
Successfully helped pass legislation for the rights of those with creature blood.
And this was your moment.
So wrapped up in your upcoming campaign were you that you'd only caught the words "Beuxbaton," "Reunion," and "Invitation"
You were sure that was all you'd needed to hear as you had more pressing concerns.
You really should have known what that would entail.
You think to yourself now as you stand beside your wife.
The picture of sophistication.
In an elegant gown.
The pride and joy of the once Pureblooded Delacour family of France.
And the once most sought after bachelorette.
She'd succeed her father one day as the head of the Most Noble and once Royal blood of House Delacour of France.
The former rulers of the Wizarding Country of France.
That's not to say you weren't proud to call yourself the spouse of Fleur Isabelle Delacour.
After all you had opted on taking her name when you'd married.
And hopefully would one day in the near future be able to call yourself Minister Delacour.
No you weren't bothered by that.
It was the ever hungry stares and over the top vying of attention.
The false modesties.
An annoying fervor you'd only ever seen in Voldemort's followers.
Of the Aristocracy of France.
As Fleur had been in the same year as quite a few of the children of the Aristocracy.
Two of which you knew fondly, her two best friends Claude Dampierres and Suzette Evreux.
Neither of which was currently present to witness the display before you.
They had seemed to materialize out of nowhere when they'd first made their entrance into the grand ballroom of Beauxbatons.
"Modeled after ze grand ballroom in Versailles,' Fleur had whispered to you as you'd been in awe at the structure.
You no sooner got to marvel at the beauty of the paintings on the ceiling.
When you'd both been accosted by an over jubilant man who looked of an age with Fleur.
He'd greeted you both, eyes never leaving your wife.
To which you had decided not to take to heart, you knew your wife was a beauty.
Her veela blood was an ever present factor.
And that didn't bother you in the slightest.
As you'd had your own turn at the over the top attention by the people of Britain after Voldemort's fall.
You were a politician.
You knew how to conduct yourself.
What you hadn't taken into consideration however.
Was the sheer amount of people Fleur seemed to draw.
She'd gone to school with the numerous witches and wizards before them.
You'd think they'd gotten used to her thrall by now.
A thrall that had tempered with age.
That was not even overly present at the moment.
That wasn't the case.
As you watched countless witch and wizard, figuratively speaking of course, fall over themselves at your wife.
No.
This didn't bother you.
A little grating on the nerves.
But this didn't bother you.
You don't even remember when they stopped acknowledging you all together.
Was it after the 7th or was it the 9th person.
That they'd decided you weren't even worth their time.
At least not enough to warrant a simple introduction.
So much for courtesy.
Fleur didn't even seem to be fazed by it as she effortlessly laughed at a wizard's attempt at a joke.
A joke that wasn't even funny.
Could only watch on as another person completely ignored you and kissed Fleur's hand in greeting.
Not bothered.
Feeling a need for some fresh air you decide to excuse yourself.
Fleur doesn't even bother to try to look your way to acknowledge you.
To wrapped up in a discussion with another wizard.
No.
You're not bothered by this.
You walk to a nearby set of doors leading to a balcony overlooking the Beauxbaton grounds.
Only then when you're holding onto the railing of the balcony do you breathe a sigh.
Ok you lied.
You're mildly frustrated.
You don't get much time to dwell on that frustration rather.
When you hear a set of footsteps behind you and you whirl around to see who's come outside.
For a split second you think it's Fleur.
It's not.
One of Fleur's erstwhile best friends stands before you.
You'd seen her briefly two summers prior when you and Fleur had decided to take the kids to vacation in Romania.
The girl who'd opted to throw caution to the wind and not go along with the aristocratic expectations of her house.
Who'd always been a bit of a "wildcard' as Fleur had mentioned.
Who'd decided to travel the world and learn about all species of Dragon after graduation.
"Fitting as she always seemed to set one of our professor's on fire each term," Fleur had mentioned with a chuckle.
Suzette Evreux.
"I was starting to wonder when one of you would break free of zat mob," the brunette haired girl says with a rueful smile.
"Has it always been like that?" you ask, it was worse than when Fleur had been at Hogwarts your fourth year.
And you had thought that was bad.
"Oh worse, but at least you don't have to deal wiz zat trallop Katherina Brassard,"
The name rings a bell.
But you can't quite put your mind on where you've heard it before.
Suzette notices your contemplative face and decides to save you the trouble.
"Fleur and she dated off and on ze majority of our time in school," she clarifies.
And ding ding ding.
That's where you've heard that name before.
Fleur had mentioned the girl when you'd been dating.
You knew the story of how that relationship had ended.
The girl had been besotted with Fleur.
And Fleur in her naive youth had thought herself besotted with the girl in turn.
Much to the displeasure of her two constant friends as they'd both never gotten round to accepting her presence amongst their little trio of sorts.
"She was very controlling," Fleur had mentioned in passing when you'd asked why it hadn't worked out between the two.
"And she wasn't you," she'd finished, and had promptly kissed you to assure you of her love for you.
You try to be nice and reply in turn "She can't have been that bad,"
To which the french witch gives you an undignified snort.
"She was overly ambitious and thought 'erself ze future lady of House Delacour, would openly boast about ze grand celebracion zeir wedding would be and would tell all 'ou would listen about 'ow she 'ad been chozen above everyone else in ze palace to be ze mate of Fleur,"
Ok so Fleur might have downplayed her relationship with Katherina Brassard.
"She was beyond controlling, attempted to ostracize Fleur from 'er friends, but ze last straw was when she tried to trick Fleur into a betrozal arrangement ze year before ze TriWizard Tournament,"
You were aware of the last part.
However you hadn't known the full extent of this girl's actions.
"I wish I 'ad been zere when Fleur told zat trallop zat she was not 'er mate," Suzette comments.
You nod in turn and you both just stand there in silence taking in the nice breeze.
"I should get ba-" you had started to say before the older witch interrupts you with a "Merde,"
You follow her line of sight before you see a woman of great beauty.
Beautiful brown hair tied up in an intricate updo, and a gown of an expensive fabric accentuating her figure.
You barely have time to register the moment that has just passed before the older witch takes your elbow and drags you with her back into the ballroom.
You can't stop the uneasy feeling you get as you both make your way through the throngs of people.
Had the mob grown since you'd last left your spouse?
No matter.
As they part in haste as Suzette leads you through them with ease.
Guess those are the perks of coming from the second most powerful family in france.
You finally make it through the throngs of people surrounding your wife when you see Katherina Brassard hanging onto Fleur's arm.
Can see the tight smile on Fleur's face.
But she makes no further movement to remove the over attentive witch from her person.
You start to move forward to remove Fleur from this interloper when the strong baritone voice of Claude Dampierres saves you the trouble.
"Fleur! Madam Maxime 'as been looking for 'ou!"
Fleur wastes no moment and excuses herself from those around her, sends you a small smile and follows her other friend away from the madness.
You make to follow the retreating form of your wife before you're stopped by the saccharine sweet voice of the Lady standing a few steps away from you.
"Fleur will be back momentarily," she proclaims with an air of confidence.
The air of a wife.
You can feel a small feeling of anger start to form at the pit of your stomach.
But you push it away.
Suzette beside you rolls her eyes.
"For a dance wiz 'er Lady wife of course," she says making a show of motioning at your person.
The gathered crowd breaks from their stupor and immediately nods and a multitude of "of course," and "naturally's" are uttered.
Their attention is on you now.
You can feel them sizing you up.
But you do not balk under the intensity of their gaze.
You're Hermione Jane Delacour nee Granger.
The Golden Girl of the Wizarding War.
You didn't balk in the face of Bellatrix Lestrange.
And you will not falter now.
Not to the uppity aristocracy of France.
And least of all to this woman.
"Ah yes ze muggleborn," the audacity of the witch.
"Ze wife and mate of ze Heir to House Delacour," Suzette counters.
This seems to do the trick as the woman reddens for a moment before quickly recovering her composure.
"Of course, 'ou ar well known amongst our circles," she bites back.
You can feel the uncomfortable air amongst the witches in wizards.
Can feel the contempt of the offending witch.
You will not allow yourself to be cowed.
"I do apologize that we haven't been introduced," you say, with an outstretched hand.
Katherina looks at your outstretched hand.
And for a brief second you're not sure she'll take it.
But she does.
She presents her hand to be kissed as is the French custom.
And you in turn shake it instead.
This earns you a grin from the woman beside you.
As you hear the faint sound a small snigger.
"You are English non?" she witch states as she pulls her hand back.
"Yes, I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic of Britain, Hermione Delacour," you state proudly.
The people around you latch onto your every word.
Had it just dawned on them that you were married to Fleur?
It must have.
No sooner have you uttered the words.
Then does the crowd start engaging with you in turn as they had done so with Fleur previously.
It's all false modesty.
You know that all too well.
But you play the part.
And can't help the smile that forms on your lips as you notice Katherina huff in annoyance.
Guess she doesn't like it when she doesn't command the attention of the crowd.
On that you're oppositely matched.
You can't stand the crowd's attention.
But it's a necessary must in order to enact change in the world.
So you put your best foot forward and brave it.
It'll be good practice for when you're Minister.
And excellent practice for when you eventually retire and move to France.
A compromise you and Fleur decided on when you first married.
You understand the importance of your spouse's position in this country.
The scion of the once royal family of Wizarding France.
Her ancestor helped found the country back in archaic times.
You were hesitant at first.
It's one thing to find out as an eleven year old that you're a witch.
That you've been accepted to a supposed magical school.
And that magic exists to begin with.
It's a whole other world to wrap your head around.
That your spouse belongs to a former ruling family.
You didn't ever think you'd find yourself in such a world.
But as time went on you grew to understand its importance.
Fleur would one day succeed her father.
And your eldest Victoire would follow after.
You muse upon this as wizard and witch alike enthusiastically engage with you.
You're not Fleur.
But you're the next best thing to these people you suppose.
The concern that is Katherina Brussard pushes to the back of your mind for the moment.
You don't know how much time has passed before the clinking of silverware on glass is heard throughout the ballroom.
The conversation around you stops.
You in turn.
Turn your head in the direction of the noise.
At the forefront of the ballroom a stage of sorts has been erected.
And standing atop it is the Headmistress of Beauxbaton.
Olympe Maxime.
She gives a lovely speech, welcoming all in attendance to the 15 year reunion of Fleur's graduating class.
All clap.
She briefly speaks on the pride she feels at seeing how her former pupils have grown.
You spot a few misty eyes.
She ends her speech by wishing everyone a lovely evening.
All clap in jubilation.
The headmistress in France is much beloved as you can plainly see.
A welcome sight.
You don't muse on this for long as you feel a hand on your back.
Suzette excuses the both of you and leads you in the direction of the stage.
It doesn't take long for you to bridge the distance.
You see Fleur engaging in an animated discussion with the Headmistress.
Her other friend Claude standing not too far behind hands clasped behind his back.
He notices the both of you approach and gives a small bow to excuse himself and walks forward.
"Lively evening ladies," he greets with a smile as he and Suzette exchange kisses on each cheek in greeting.
And he leans in to do the same with you.
Of Fleur's two friends he followed a career in the Ministry.
Much as you did.
He always has delightful insight on legislation and reform that piqued your interest as a teenager.
And continues to do so to this day.
"Did you see what zat tart wore zis evening?" The snide comment from Suzette startles you from your thoughts.
She'd never been one to judge people for what they were wearing.
At least not since you've known her.
A look of mild irritation passes over Claude's features in turn.
This surprises you.
This felt out of character for the two.
And you can feel a tenseness.
"Ou would zink zat she would 'ave better decorum," the dark brown haired man comments in agreement.
They must have noticed the quizzical look on your face.
As you notice a look briefly pass between the two before Claude explains.
"She iz wearing a necklace zat Fleur gifted to her in our school days,"
Ah.
Well then.
This doesn't bug you much.
It's just a simple necklace.
But you can't help the growing sense of worry starting to grow in the back of your mind.
"She iz a married woman so ' 'ou would not zink zat she would stoop to such impropriety," Claude offhandedly comments.
No sooner have the words left his lips then does the woman seemingly materialize out of nowhere.
The three of you turn as you hear her voice greet Fleur.
It would seem in your conversation you missed Madam Maxime excusing herself.
And now the woman of the hour has struck up a conversation once more with your spouse.
You can feel the annoyance seep into you.
The forwardness of this woman has gotten under your skin.
You can't lie to yourself.
As if sensing this Claude asks you for a dance.
An attempt to help cool your mind.
He exchanges a look with Suzette and she shoots you both a smile before walking up to Fleur and Katherina.
You want to object.
You want to put that woman in her place.
But you're a politician.
More importantly.
One running for the highest office in your own country.
And it would not be seen well if you are found acting rash overseas.
And the hierarchy in France is a much different algorithm all together.
So you allow Claude to lead you to the dance floor and allow him to lead you in a dance.
A simple waltz.
"Do not let Katherina get ze better of 'ou," Claude's words break you from your contemplative thoughts.
"Has she always been so," you respond in turn, trying to find the right word to describe the audacity of the woman currently speaking to your wife.
"Overreaching? Oui," Claude responds as he leads you.
You take this in.
So this is not new.
"But you 'ave nozing to worry about, Suzette will make sure Katherina knows 'er place," he assures you as the song comes to a stop and he takes a step back and gives you a slight bow.
Signalling the end of your brief dance.
You curtsey back in turn and you both make your way back to Fleur.
"Oh you must simply come! It iz lovely zis time of ze year!" you hear the saccharine sweet voice of Katherina exclaim as you and Claude approach.
You can see the tight smile back on Fleur's face and the annoyed look on Suzette's features.
Not sensing the reluctance of your spouse or choosing to ignore it all together.
The woman goes on.
"Once our children are wed we can finally join our lines as it was meant to,"
This immediately doesn't sit right with you.
And Claude is not able to hold you back from this one.
You walk with purpose and move to stand on the other side of your wife.
Suzette flanking the other.
And Claude coming up behind.
"I do apologize for the interruption," you begin.
You're not sorry.
Offence meant.
The woman turns her attention on you as you loop your arm around Fleur's waist.
"I did not know that you had children attending Hogwarts, what year are they in?" you ask.
You're not sure what this woman is getting at.
But when it comes to your children you are fiercely protective.
The question catches her off guard.
But she quickly recovers.
"Ah non, zey attend Beauxbaton as all proper children of ze nobility," she says matter of factly.
"I was proposing a betrozal," she clarifies.
This really doesn't sit right with you.
"A betrothal?" you question back.
What an archaic proposition.
You would never force your children into a marriage.
They would be free to choose who they loved.
No one would dictate that.
Least of all this woman.
"Oui, zat or I was going to request Fleur assist me wiz arranging the betrozal of our child,"
The what.