Authors Note:

I guess Narcissa and Fleur are a rare pair. haha This sucker is running smoothly so I think I might alternate between the two stories, like a recharge story.

SO the idea of this story came to me when I looked at my own stories and noticed I tend to write re-writes. I kinda shook my head and wondered if that was letting me grow as a writer. I was chatting with a groovy human, and the idea of pen pals hit like wrecking ball. The good ol' what if scenario bombarded me. This was also supposed to be a Cissamione story, but I already have a few of those written. Grow as a writer and think out side of your box. How far out of my box can I get than Narcissa and Fleur romance with a side of Hermione and Luna? LOL

This is a non-soulmates, non-magical bond story. I tend to fall back on that trope, so this is proving to be super fun and challenging.

Hope you all enjoy

Snow

Hermione packed up her papers and there was a knock on the door and a clearing of one's throat. She looked up and smiled softly. He was still prone to an all-black wardrobe, his blonde hair ever neat, but there as a gentleness to his eyes as he smiled toward his teacher.

"Miss Granger, may I have a moment of your time?" Draco said grinning. She scoffed and waved him in. He closed the door behind him and she reached for her wand. He looked at the action, and his face fell.

"I apologize Draco," Hermione sighed and then took a seat in one of the student chairs as he took a seat next to her. They situated the chairs to face the door and she lifted her feet up onto the table top. He leered at her manners and she smiled knowing it drove him nuts.

"Mr. Malfoy, I hope you have your essay on my desk tomorrow afternoon," She said as she bumped his shoulder. He smiled and then took a breath.

"It is taking some getting used to you being my Charms teacher," Draco smiled and Hermione nodded. She waited, and he knew she was giving him his time. It was something that they developed over the past few months since they figured out the others identity. They still wrote from time to time, but he was grateful for her understanding.

"Yeah, imagine me teaching people I went to school with. Its weird," she chuckled and placed the wand on the table and then ran her palms on her jeans clad thighs. Headmistress was very lenient with her wardrobe as Hermione had the argument that if Dumbledore could wear those gods awful robes, she can wear jeans and sweaters.

"You were always teaching your house. It shouldn't be too much of a stretch you would be teaching everyone now. You were always a great teacher. I am sorry I was a git and never told you that," Draco said, and Hermione nodded silently. Sometimes she found his moments of remorseful candor off setting

"I am sorry, Draco. I don't know what to say to that," Hermione said honestly. Draco reached for her hand.

"Just let me be honest from time to time," he said softly. Hermione gripped his hand back.

"Anytime. Are you ok?" she asked her friend.

He squeezed her hand and then stood. She watched him as he paced in front of her. It wasn't the frantic pacing of a desperate man. No, it was the slow steady pacing of a person wanting to find the right words.

"The nightmares are taking their toll, and then father…" Draco raked his hand through his hair. He watched his father die as Narcissa pulled him back from the fight. He always beat himself up, thought he could have done something, if his mother didn't wrap her arms around him and keep him from being by his fathers side.

"When have you talked to her last?" Hermione asked quietly and Draco stopped looking out into space.

"I can't," he said and then Hermione went to Draco and placed her hand on his shoulder and he turned into her. She held him. He held her sometimes when she talked of her time at the manor, when memories were as vivid as experiencing it again. She held him when his world was beginning to crumble to the ground. She rubbed circles into his back.

"Maybe someday," Hermione tried, and Draco pulled from her shrugging, "Maybe you can write her letters, try like we did?" she offered and Draco sighed and dropped to the chair looking down at his hands.

"What can I possibly say to her?" he asked and felt his resolve crumble.

"Would..." Hermione began and then thought better of it then she waved the thought aside and shook her head.

"What?" he asked.

"Its not a good idea, and it is not my place," Hermione said as she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

"Oh, just spit it out Granger," Draco scoffed not having the patience for the run around.

"I was thinking I could write to her on your behalf, and maybe open the lines of communication, but I don't know how she would take me, a mudblood, contacting her," Hermione lifted her hand as he was going to protest the use of that term. He shifted his views when he watched her screaming on the floor of his family home.

"I don't know if that would be a good idea not because of you contacting her, but for the simple fact I needed some one else to do it for me. It would be thought of as cowardly, Hermione," Draco explained. Hermione nodded. She could understand that. She walked to Draco and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Someday you will have to talk to her, and I will be there if you need me," Hermione promised and he nodded. They let go of each other.

"So how are the titbag twins?" Draco asked lightly. Hermione smacked him on the arm playfully.

"Trying to become aurors. Ron is still basking in the spotlight, while Harry is trying o run from it," Hermione said chuckling.

"When was the last time you talked to them, or heard from them?" Draco asked and regretted it as Hermione's face fell as she walked to her desk and retrieved her things. Draco knew the conversation was coming to a close.

"It has been a long while, but at least Harry writes when he remembers," Hermione laughed.

"Why doesn't the red head write?" Draco asked as they slowly made it to the door, "I thought you two were going to …" he said trying to keep the sneer from his lips. Hermione sighed.

"When I took in Fleur, it made things difficult with the Weasley's. I don't know why, but knowing she is living with me made things so strained. She needed someone, Draco. We all needed someone. I am just grateful she is allowing me to be that person for her. She is insanely stubborn, and if she doesn't want to do something she won't. I think I am not a question of want but a needed. She has no one in England with Bill gone. And she saved me after … ya know," Hermione sighed, "I love her to pieces. I just wonder why her in-laws threw her away," Hermione said voicing her concerns.

"When you say you love her, do you mean LOVE love her or what?" Draco grinned evilly. Hermione laughed and shoulder checked him at the door.

"I will not dignify that with an answer," she narrowed her eyes as she watched Draco's jaw drop.

"Hermione I was joking, are you serious?" Draco asked as he latched on to this juicy tidbit of info like a dog on a bone.

"Draco get your mind out of the gutter. She is the wrong blonde," she smiled and then his face turned as red as a stop sign.

"Would this blonde be tall, handsome, and crazy rich?" he waggled his eyebrows. Hermione laughed and opened the door and they walked together.

"Try short, dreamy, and utterly adorable," Hermione provided. Draco thought about it and came up with nothing. Hermione smiled as she watched him try to figure it out.

"Get my homework done young man," she chided and he scoffed as they got to an intersection. As Hermione and Draco split at the intersection she wondered about her dreamy little imp. To bad the girl doesn't know.

Hermione opened up her portrait and walked into the common room and found Fleur napping on the couch with a piece of parchment on her chest. Hermione picked up the parchment, took a glance, and then placed it on the table. She didn't need to know anything going on with her pen pal, unless Fleur wanted to tell her. She turned back to Fleur and saw the dark circles under her eyes, and then sighed.

She heard her screaming last night. She ran to her room and woke her friend and the woman clutched on to her as if she were reduced to a frightened child. Fleur watched Bill die. It wasn't by a wand. If was by the claws and fangs of Fenrir Greyback. She fought her way through the courtyard only to arrive as Greyback's massive paw took Bill's head from his shoulders. He looked on her as if she were a meal but was killed by a plummeting crystal ball from the astronomy tower. She looked on in shock. She wished she could avenge her husband and Hermione to this day feels that is she could have had the satisfaction of killing the brute, she would not struggle as she has been.

Hermione was shocked from her thoughts as a hand reached up and stroked her cheek. She looked down and found the most anguished blue eyes she had ever seen. She took Fleur's hand.

"I quit my job today," Fleur said and Hermione blinked rapidly.

"Why?" Hermione asked softly, "You loved that job. The action and adventure it provided you. You even said it was the rush that you loved," Hermione smiled down on the girl.

"I was in the deeper Gringotts vaults and I had issues with one of the cursed locks. It exploded and I was thrown back and hit the wall. I was rushed to the bank infirmary, and taken care of. But it was that knock on the head that made me think, why was I really doing this. Bill was my back up, we watched each other's backs. No one seemed to have mine. So, I quit because I was tired of almost dying," Fleur said softly but quickly.

"Thank the gods," Hermione said as she smiled down on the Veela. Hermione leaned forward and kissed Fleur's head and rose from the couch but Fleur still held her hand. Hermione looked down.

"Thank you for loving me, and being here for me," Fleur whispered and Hermione nodded, swallowed and looked away.

"This requires wine," Hermione called from their kitchen. Fleur sat up watching Hermione. Hermione seemed ruffled, and nervous, but smiled brightly.

"Do you know what you want to do for a job?" Hermione asked and Fleur shook her head as Hermione came back with two glasses of red wine. Hermione sat next to Fleur and Fleur took the glass.

"Cheers," Hermione and Fleur clinked glasses and took sips from their glasses, "How do you feel about healing?" Hermione asked and Fleur tilted her head.

"It would be a nice change of pace, why?" Fleur asked and Hermione placed the glass of wine on the table and faced Fleur.

"Fleur, I might not be here if it wasn't for you," Hermione said and Fleur looked away and swallowed.

"You were so beaten and bloody. Gods Hermione I don't know how I saved you. I constantly blame it on your will to live, not my prowess as a medic. Those days in the cottage, I think that was when I first began to like you," Fleur smiled as she thought back on some of their interactions.

"The same for me. When I left the cottage with the boys, the look on your face, you seemed to know something was up. Leaving almost ripped my heart out," Hermione confessed, and Fleur looked to Hermione. She never heard of that. "Truth be told I didn't want to leave. I found something beautiful and wonderful under your roof," Hermione said and looked into their fire with a dreamy look. Fleur blinked and swallowed.

"Hermione, you know I would never hurt you, right?" Fleur asked and Hermione looked over to her friend, she smiled and took her hand and kissed the back of her hand. Then looked into the flames and shook it. Fleur clenched the hand in hers.

"Hermione, are you trying to tell me you fell in love at the cottage?" Fleur asked and Hermione nodded.

"Hermione I am honored…" Fleur began and then Hermione's head turned to Fleur with a wide smile on her lips. "What? I thought…" Fleur said and Hermione shook her head.

"As I have said to another today, wrong blonde," Hermione said and Fleur thought. Her eyes went wide.

"No way!" Fleur said and then giggled like a schoolgirl, "She is strange, but loyal, and her soul is as gorgeous as she is," Fleur said and bumped Hermione's shoulder, "I say go for it," Fleur said grinning like a loon.

"Maybe. I do know she didn't want to come back this year and took her Newts, just as I did. She got top marks as well," Hermione said musing on the blonde.

"Dear god Hermione, it is a woman, not a book. Don't over analyzer her. Just owl her," Fleur said grinning. Hermione loved seeing her friend like this. Free and light.

"Back to the original topic of conversation. What if you can be a healer in the infirmary? Poppy died and it has been difficult getting a decent healer," Hermione offered and then Fleur nodded.

"Why not?" Fleur said thinking this was for the best. And she could stay with her best friend.

"Give me a moment to floo Minerva," Hermione got up and flooed the headmistress. Fleur looked to the woman, and shook her head. Somehow, she was the only person to take her in, show her love, and comfort. Hermione was the only one to be gentle with her broken heart, and showed her patience as she began to rebuild her soul. She would be lost without Hermione. Fleur looked to the table, the parchment she had been reading. She walked to the desk and looked at the letter, and then looked at blank paper.

Hello Pal,

Believe it is a good idea to think of this as mutual purging. I quit my job today. I was growing tired of near death experiences, and my roommate has been magnificent with the tending to my wounds and dealing with my nightmares. I sometimes feel like I take advantage of her and her kindness. She is beyond what is good in the universe. She even forgave and became wonderful friends with one of her tormentors in school.

I think I should take her example. Even though I cannot avenge my husband, maybe it is time to start anew.

As I think of your letter, I admit I admire you for telling me about your side and involvement in the war, your upbringing, and your views. I believe it is not the wrong side as long as you believe you are on that side you completely believe in. You brought up you are a pure blood. I have creature blood in my veins. I tell you this to remain on equal footing. I will not hide anything from a person that doesn't even know who I am. There is no point. You can either stop writing or keep writing. Its up to you.

I thought of those in the battle, young and old, Death Eaters and Children. It was too soon for the children. My heart weeps everyday for the children but my heart weeps for those who remain behind remembering, feeling.

I appreciate jarringly honest. I am French so some of your English idioms may get lost on me. Thank you for being blunt.

Your Pen Pal

Fleur attached the letter to the owl and opened their window. As soon as she was finished Headmistress McGonagall was at the portrait seeking admittance. Fleur smiled. Maybe things will look up.

Across the country

Narcissa was in the gardens walking about and enjoying one of the few good days that England was graced with in November. She saw the spec on the horizon get larger and then fly toward her. She recognized the little owl and was surprised with the quick turnaround. She took the letter and the owl simply fluttered to the nearby tree. When she needed it she would open a window, and it would come.

When she glanced at the letter she was surprised by the length. She was not expecting that. She clenched the letter in her hands and walked to the library where there was good light, parchment, quills and ink. She sank into Lucius's chair and closed her eyes. She never really loved her husband, but her was her dear friend. When she sank into the leather of the chair the air smelled of him, and a tear came to her eye. She clenched her eyes, remembered when they brought Draco home and how attentive Lucius was as Draco's father. She was a good father to Draco. He just made the worst decisions imaginable. She opened her eyes and then unfolded the letter. A smile came to her lips. She rather liked her pen pal, and then her brow furrowed. Creature blood. She put the letter on the desk. So, this woman was on the opposite side of the war, AND a creature. She ran her hand through her blonde locks, and blew out a breath. She stared at the ceiling of the library and thought to herself. Could she really do this? Could she and a creature blooded woman be willing to be honest?

"Fuck it," Narcissa said allowed and smirked. She liked cursing, and no one there to tell her not to. But she also liked this little creature. No one was there to judge her, mock or ridicule her for her fondness of her letter sharing partner. She found she didn't give a damn, so, yes, fuck it. She plucked the quill out of the ink well and looked at the parchment. She smiled. Why not be who she always wanted to be?

Hello Little Creature,

I am sorry if that offends you, but I smile, pleasantly not maliciously, thinking that we were strangely brought together as if some twist of pen pal fate. We are so similar yet so different. It is refreshing. Would you be put off if I told you I never had to work a day in my life? I do find it good that you quit. Who else would I write too if you died on the job? You must tell me what kind of job that is so dangerous, but only if you wish.

Anyways, running my husband's businesses have filled my day. I craved for something to fill the hours of… nothingness. My son, he and I are on a strained relationship, so forgive me for being envious of your living arrangement. At least you can talk to someone. Your roommate sounds like a saint. I have found saints to be pretentious and preachy. As I think about it, I hate saints. Be a real person. Show your sides. If your roommate is a genuinely wonderful person, I apologize, it's just where I come from, the life I have lived, people always want something.

I think I appreciate your honesty. It is new and refreshing. Not many people I talk to or deal with are honest. As I have said, people want something. If you would like to reveal what creature, I would be honored, but if you wish not to, I would not be offended. I think we can't give too much of ourselves away in these letters lest we we...give ourselves away.

What is one thing you could wish for that is tangible, and possible? I wish I could talk to my son. I wish he would not hold me accountable for his father's death. I also wish I could have been a little braver during the war.

As I write to you, I feel like I can be a different person, or maybe just the real me. I can see the appeal in writing to an anonymous person. There are no expectations, no preconceived notations. Other than being on the opposite sides of a war we can write to a kindred spirit. Eventually bridge the gaps in our lives. Time will tell.

Until Next time Little Creature,

Your Pen Pal