It was long past midnight when Fleur Delacour returned home to the manor.
The great doors of the Delacour estate opened with a quiet groan, admitting her into the familiar warmth of marble floors and lavender-scented halls. The lights had been dimmed for the night, casting golden glows along the corridors. The staff—discreet and ever-watchful—greeted her with polite bows but said nothing, understanding the late hour.
She stepped out of her shoes and padded softly through the main corridor, making her way toward the long sitting room at the heart of the house. The flicker of firelight from within caught her attention.
Apolline Delacour was seated there, elegant and calm, in a midnight-blue dressing gown with her silvery hair falling loosely past her shoulders. A book was open in her lap, though she hadn't turned a page in quite some time.
As Fleur entered, Apolline's lips curved knowingly.
"Back from your little date with Eira?"
Fleur groaned and collapsed onto the couch beside her. "Oh, please, Maman. It wasn't a date. We were just… meeting."
Apolline raised a brow but said nothing as her daughter stretched out and, like she used to as a child, laid her head gently on her mother's knees.
From beneath her curls, Fleur tugged off the violet hat she'd worn all day. Apolline took it from her fingers, inspecting it with faint amusement.
"So… this charming little Muggle hat," Apolline mused, "was a gift from her, wasn't it?"
Fleur nodded. "She gave it to me the moment she saw the crowd gathering. Said I was attracting too much attention."
Her mother chuckled softly. "A thoughtful girl. She understands that your beauty—especially your Veela charm—is overwhelming for those without magical resistance. That was clever of her. Protective, even."
Fleur smiled into her mother's lap. "She looked so serious about it, too. Almost annoyed."
"And how was it, this 'not-a-date'?" Apolline asked, gently threading her fingers through her daughter's hair.
Fleur closed her eyes. "It was lovely, Maman. We walked through the city… explored little Muggle shops, tried sweets, had lunch on a rooftop. Everything was normal. Simple. Sweet."
Apolline's hand never paused as she combed through the long strands.
"I'm glad you had a good time," she said. "Though I imagine Gabrielle will be upset you didn't bring her."
Fleur groaned again. "The moment she saw the invitation from Eira, she wouldn't stop begging to come. But I didn't want to bring her. It was just me and Eira. Our day."
Apolline laughed. "Possessive already, are we?"
"No," Fleur protested half-heartedly.
But her silence afterward was telling. Apolline studied her daughter for a moment, her smile gentler now, more motherly.
"Fleur," she said softly, "do you like her?"
Fleur turned her face into her mother's lap, trying to hide the heat rushing to her cheeks. "No, Maman. It's not like that. She's just… a friend."
"Don't lie to me," Apolline whispered. "And especially don't lie to yourself. I know the signs. You talk about her constantly. You glow when you say her name. I'm your mother. I know when my daughter is falling for someone."
Fleur didn't answer for a long while.
Eventually, she whispered, "Maybe I do. But I don't know. I don't know what she thinks of me. I don't even know if she… likes girls."
Apolline sighed, her hand stilling. "Ah. I see."
"I can't tell her," Fleur murmured. "She's twelve, Maman. She's still growing. She doesn't even know what she wants yet. I can't throw this at her. It wouldn't be fair."
"No," Apolline agreed, her voice soft and slow. "But feelings aren't fair, are they? Still… you're right. She's young. But you, you're fifteen now. You're entering that time when your heart will pull you toward someone."
"I don't want to ruin what we have," Fleur said, lifting her head. "If I tell her how I feel and she doesn't feel the same, it'll change everything. I'd rather wait… just wait and see."
"And if you wait too long?" Apolline asked. "If someone else gets to her first?"
"I don't care," Fleur said quickly. "I mean… I do. But even if I can't have her… I'll always be by her side. I'll always protect her."
Apolline looked down at her daughter's flushed cheeks and conflicted eyes, and smiled faintly.
"And there goes my dream of having grandchildren," she teased.
Fleur let out a dramatic sigh. "Maman, having grandchildren isn't everything. Besides, you're still young. You could have another child if you really wanted one."
Apolline burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm not so sure about that."
The warmth between them settled into silence again, peaceful and a little sad. Finally, Apolline spoke.
"You need to be careful with her, Fleur. She's young, yes—but also very special. Do you know how many pure-blood families have their eyes on her? In Britain and in France. Many would try to manipulate her, to win her favor, even to trick her into marriage. Some may even resort to potions, charms… obsession magic."
Fleur's eyes narrowed. "I would never let that happen. If any man so much as lays a finger on her—"
"You'll destroy him?" Apolline chuckled.
"I would," Fleur said seriously. "I will protect her, no matter what."
Her mother continued stroking her hair, though her voice grew quieter.
"Be careful, Fleur. A Veela's love is… consuming. Once we fall, we fall deeply. We don't let go. Obsession comes easily, and heartbreak… is nearly unbearable. I don't want that for you."
"I know, Maman," Fleur whispered. "I'll try… but I don't know if I can stop feeling this way."
Apolline leaned down and pressed a kiss to her daughter's temple.
"Then for now… go to sleep, ma chérie. It's late."
Fleur nodded and rose from the couch. She turned one last time at the door, clutching the violet hat in her hands, then padded away toward her bedroom.
⸻
Moments later, Jean-Luc Delacour stepped into the sitting room, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"She's home?" he asked.
"She's gone to bed," Apolline said, still staring into the fire.
He sat beside her, stretching out with a grunt. "So? How did it go?"
Apolline smiled faintly. "Your little princess is in love."
Jean-Luc blinked, then chuckled. "With a girl, no less. Never saw that coming."
"She hasn't confessed," Apolline added. "She's terrified. Thinks it'll ruin their friendship."
"Do you think it's a good idea?" he asked, rubbing his jaw. "This… relationship?"
Apolline sighed. "It's not our place to say. If it's meant to be, it will be. If not, she'll learn something from it. She's still young."
Jean-Luc got to his feet, stretching. "Well. I suppose we can leave the love stories to the next generation. Come, Apolline. Let's go make another baby. Since clearly, our firstborn has decided she won't be giving us grandchildren anytime soon."
Apolline rolled her eyes. "You and your jokes."
But her laughter echoed through the quiet halls of the manor as they left the sitting room together—parents smiling over the beautiful, confusing, and hopeful heart of their daughter.