AN: So I went through and edited this a bit and fixed all my typos, not much has really changed but I just needed to go through and edit. :3

Chapter 1: The Night Before

You can't escape fate. That's what Fleur Delacour kept telling herself as she sat at the bar watching the love of her life dancing with a few of their female friends by the small area in front of the DJ's station. A drink already on her lips, the part-Veela scowled as she watched the lovely brunette move to the up beat music as the strobe light caught the large gem on her left ring finger. It didn't matter how dark it was or the lack of lighting in the room, it always blinded Fleur's crystalline blue orbs and she despised it. She swallowed what was left in her glass and set it back down on the bar.

"Another, please." She muttered as the male bartender smiled and nodded, he was more than happy to oblige the stunning woman at his bar.

"This one is on the house, gorgeous." He winked at her and Fleur inwardly cringed.

"Merci." It's not that this man wasn't handsome, on the contrary, he was tall, fit, and with dark wavy locks of hair that contrasted his honey colored eyes. Any other time in her life, she would've considered flirting, but now she only had eyes for the young woman on the dance floor.

She felt a gentle tug on her little finger on her right hand and looked down to see the faintly glowing crimson of the thread attached to said digit. A frown fell on her lips as it tangled and bounced lightly, her eyes following it all the way to where it ended, tied in a dainty bow on Hermione Granger's left pinky finger. The glow overpowering the sparkle of her engagement ring.

"Fleur!" The blonde's head snapped up when she heard the voice of Ginny Weasley breaking through her wall of thought. "Why aren't you dancing?"

"I've had too much alcohol to dance, Ginny." Fleur answered as she held up the half empty glass of fire whiskey and took a sip. After she had broken up with Bill, she and Ginny had, surprisingly, formed a friendship with one another on the approximation that Fleur wasn't as bitchy when she was single. And that she'd saved the youngest Weasley's life during the war. "I'm fine being a spectator."

"You're not looking forward to Hermione and Ron's wedding tomorrow?" Inside, Fleur wanted to scream her objection, but she kept it together and merely shrugged. Ginny had caught her starting at Hermione one Christmas with a 'deeply troubled, yet longing' look in her eyes, as the red head put it. Fleur brushed it off as her wondering how Hermione had so effectively tamed her lion's mane. "It's all right to be sad, you know."

"I'm happy for her." Suddenly the tension on the thread slackened and blue eyes looked over to see Hermione, Luna, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell walking towards the bar smiling brightly and out of breath. Fleur put on her best smile as the girls plopped down at the bar and ordered drinks. Again, she found herself stealing glances at Hermione who had a sheen of sweat on her brow and Fleur found it impossible to look away.

"Getting too old to stay out so late?" Hermione teased as she sipped on a mojito and smirked at the blonde. Fleur just quirked a perfect eyebrow and shook her head.

"It is only two in the morning, petite fille." Fleur retorted as she drank the rest of the amber liquid sloshing in her glass. "We will see if you can stay awake as long as I."

"Two AM?!" Katie Bell gasped as she glanced at her watch and groaned. "Luna and I should get going, we have to have brunch with my mum before the wedding." Again, Fleur frowned at the reminder before waving her hand for a refill and catching Hermione giving Katie and Luna a quick hug before they left.

"Well, what now?" The bride-to-be asked as she glanced at Fleur and Ginny.

"I should be heading out too." Fleur's eyes widened as she spun to glare at the red head. "I have a lot to do tomorrow to make sure my I'm ready and not hungover for my best friend's and brother's wedding."

"I guess it's just you and I, Fleur." The brown eyed beauty mused as Ginny hugged both of them around the shoulders from behind. Did she mention she and Hermione were roommates? Yet another twisted joke of destiny when Fleur had left Bill and was searching for a flat near Gringott's.

Of course the universe had to dangle Miss Hermione Granger in front of her who lived in a much too large two bedroom flat in London across from the Leaky Cauldron. Damn her luck and the Goddess of Inopportune Fortune. As the blonde was lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed they had left the club and were already strolling down the street in the sweet, summer's night air. She heard Hermione let out a drawn out yawn as she wobbled a bit and Fleur wrapped and arm around her shoulders to steady her.

"Someone had a bit to drink, I see." Fleur chuckled as they turned a corner and made their way back to their flat. Hermione just giggled and leaned against the taller witch with a contented sigh.

"Oui, Mon ami." The brunette drawled playfully as she waved her hand in front of her in a very animated fashion. The benefit of living with Fleur was learning snippets of French, which Hermione liked to reply with when the blonde would tease her. "Qu'en pensez-vou? Avez-vou eu du plaisir?"

Fleur smiled, if there was one thing that could take her melt, it was Hermione speaking in her native French tongue. It had been horribly difficult to teach her since the brunette made the most adorable faces when learning pronunciations. She had almost lost control and kissed her that day, but that was against the rules, because you can't rush fate just like you can't escape it.

"Oui." She knew the answer was short, but she also knew that Hermione was a bit too tipsy to notice and ask her twenty questions as they entered their building and rode the elevator to the seventh floor. It was hard enough to have Hermione's body pressed so perfectly against hers, and keep in mind that the younger woman's wedding was tomorrow afternoon, but also to try and keep her feelings contained at the moment was almost painful. Those glasses of whiskey were finally kicking in as Fleur shook her head and sighed.

"What's wrong, Fleur?" The pair exited the elevator and walked down the hall, one, two, three, the fourth door on the left. Fleur fumbled with the keys as the object of her affection continued to stare at her with a glazed, yet concerned glare. "You look sad."

"Just tired, Hermione." Her reply was weak and she knew it, but still, she offered a small smile as she unlocked the door and walked into their dark flat. "You were right earlier, I am getting old."

Hermione finally detached herself from the part-Veela and stumbled over to the couch as a hand waved, causing the lights to flicker on. Fleur walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water for her roommate when she heard the soft hum and slight pull on her hand again. Blue eyes glanced down to the thread glowing and vibrating slightly. This happened when Hermione was too close. She scowled and ignored the soft buzzing as she filled a tall glass and walked over to the brunette who was kicking off her shoes.

"You're so good to me, Fleur." Hermione hummed as she took the proffered glass and drank half with no arguments. "What will I do when I move out?"

"Cook a meal for yourself for once." Her tone was teasing to hide the pain in her chest as she sat down next to her destined love before sloughing off her jacket and boots. "Take care of a man-sized child."

Did she say the out loud? Fleur cursed under her breath as she expected Hermione to reprimand her, but instead only soft giggles floated through the still air. She gasped when she felt the shorter witch scoot closer, wrap her arms around Fleur's right limb and nuzzle her face into her shoulder. The humming was louder and the vibration on her finger was stronger as Fleur shook her hand to try and gain some relief.

"If Ron expects me to take care of him he's going to have a very rude awakening." Brown eyes fluttered shut as a soft sigh escaped Hermione's lungs. "I'll miss living here. I don't know if I've lived on my own without Harry and Ron. They wanted me to move into Grimmauld Place, you know? But living with two boys who I've never been away from besides three months out of the year for seven years? I needed to get away from them." The Veela chuckled, she'd heard this story when she first moved in and Hermione was quite the rambler when she had alcohol in her system. "I was really glad when Ginny brought up the possibility of us living together after you and Bill ended. Of course I was a bit skeptical, living with a high maintenance girl like you-"

"High maintenance?" Fleur's voice rose a few octaves as she glanced down into brown eyes that had reopened at the blonde's reaction. "You think I am high maintenance? Hermione Jean Granger, you sort your books by color and publishing year! Not to mention for the first month I lived 'ere I couldn't have more than three things on the sink in the bathroom, one having to be my toothbrush."

"I don't like clutter." Hermione said simply as she moved away from Fleur and shrugged.

"Says the woman with a war zone for a closet." Fleur blocked her face as a silk embroidered pillow flew at her, missing her completely, thanks to Hermione's inebriated state. She chuckled as the brunette rolled her eyes and gave Fleur a stern glare. Suddenly, catching the Veela off guard, the shorter witch flew forward and gently wrapped her arms around her slim neck, knocking her back so she was leaning against the arm rest. "Hermione?"

"Will you miss me?" The younger woman's voice was a breathy sigh as she rested her forehead against Fleur's. Fleur didn't really know how to answer the question as her brow furrowed and she averted her gaze to the floor. "Fleur?" The young witch pulled away slightly so she was sitting back on her knees which were straddling Fleur's legs.

Should she answer truthfully? Tell the brunette that when she left she was going to physically ache at the distance between them? That she would miss her closeness? Her micromanaging and her nagging? She didn't know how to answer. A part of her wanted to tell Hermione that she was going to miss her terribly and try to beg her to call off her wedding, but that would be selfish, and you can't be selfish with the ones you love.

"I will miss you, mon ami." Her own voice was barely above a whisper as she finally looked into brown orbs that were starting to clear up from their haze. She lifted a hand and gently brushed a stray curl away from the brunette's face before letting her fingers grace over the soft skin of her cheek. Her eyes caught the hitch in Hermione's throat as she willed herself not to touch her more, but you can't deny the ones you love the simple pleasures. So again, she moved her hand forward on the same path and gently cupped her love's cheek before ghosting her thumb over the porcelain skin. "Terribly."

Fleur felt something break in her as Hermione leaned forward and this time, Fleur's breath caught in her lungs as she inched ever closer. Don't rush, don't push, don't be selfish. Never before had Fleur indulged herself on Hermione. Not even one sloppy, drunk-fueled kiss on their 'girl's night out'. She had always thought it would be taking advantage of the young girl and she didn't want that. But now, with the owner of her heart moving steadily closer, eyes hooded and clear as the morning sky in summer, she couldn't stop herself.

Her control shattered as she leaned forward to meet Hermione halfway, lips gently melding together in a very bittersweet first kiss. Fleur Delacour had once thought herself in love with Bill Weasley and would admit, his kisses left her knees feeling weak, but Hermione's kiss, the kiss of her destined, made her body feel weightless with small explosions going off on all of her nerves. This was a means to an end. A lovely prologue to the beginning of a story that wasn't hers. Fleur knew this, she knew that tomorrow, Hermione Jean Granger, the love of her life and her destined mate, was going to marry the man she though she loved. But right now she was Fleur's and the Veela didn't intend on letting this opportunity, to have more of Hermione slip through her fingers.

Slowly, as kisses do, it built up with heat and ardor as dainty hands moved up to gently grab Fleur's face and deepen the kiss as Hermione's lips parted. Fleur was unsure of what to do with the last bit of clear headedness that she had which was slowly, forcefully, being over-run by her desire. The tension on her pinky finger was almost burning her as the crimson glow brightened and the string began to shorten to accommodate their distance.

Hermione, thankfully, was the one to pull away, but not in shock, or disgust. She pulled away slowly, like a lover trying to revel in the afterglow of a perfect kiss. Her eyes were still half closed as she looked into darkened blue orbs and sighed.

"Why couldn't you do that sooner?" Hermione asked as she leaned forward to rest her forehead against Fleur's, who was still trying to regain her composure from the breathtaking kiss of her destined.

It was very obvious that the brunette hadn't drank as much as the Veela had thought and even more obvious that she was using the alcohol as fuel to pursue her curiosity. Fleur just sighed before moving her hand to hold the back of Hermione's head, tangling gently in her slightly mussed, chestnut curls.

"I didn't want to lose you," There, she'd said it. More than anything Fleur was afraid her love would push Hermione away. Even though they were bound by the Red Thread of Fate, that didn't mean their affections would sprout immediately. The thread could be tangled, knotted, stretched, and frayed, but eventually they would come back to one another. Hermione's wedding was a tangle. A block in their path, but Fleur tried not to fret, not to push, not to rush, not to be selfish. "Ronald makes you happy, I didn't want to interfere."

"So why did you kiss me back?"

"Only because I wanted to." Fleur answered softly as she closed her eyes and tried to suppress the burning desire to kiss Hermione again. Once was enough, that's the mantra she was chanting in her head. But when is one ever enough when you've had a taste of perfection?

"What do we do?" The brunette's question was a gentle whisper that made Fleur shudder at the bereaved tone underlying Hermione's voice.

There was confusion, chagrin, and over all iniquity falling from those soft lips and suddenly, Fleur felt guilty for reciprocating. She never wanted her destined to feel so troubled over a mere kiss. So she answered the only way she could.

"You are going to get married tomorrow," She breathed, trying to steady her voice as she gently placed her palms on Hermione's shoulders and pushed her back so they were both sitting, facing each other again. "You're a bit tipsy, Hermione, a drunken kiss means nothing." Brown eyes widened slightly as she watched the blonde Veela rise from her seat and straighten her shirt. "You should get some sleep, mon ami, you have a big day tomorrow and I don't think you want dark bags under your eyes for the photos."

Her heart was breaking. She turned towards her room so Hermione wouldn't see her lip start to tremble, or the tears that were brimming in her blue yes. Don't rush. Don't push. The thread loosened around her finger significantly and eased the discomfort on her finger before Fleur cleared her throat.

"You have a good sleep, Hermione." Fleur's feet luckily still had the strength to make it to her room and she shut the door. She barely made it to her bed before she collapsed, face down on her pillows and silently let the tears fall from her eyes.

It's meant to be. Fleur whispered in her mind as she heard footsteps stop outside her door for a moment, before a soft sigh echoed in the silence and Hermione moved towards her own room. You can't rush fate, you can't push. Mantras don't always work. Fleur didn't feel better knowing eventually she and Hermione would be together forever, the present hurt. The mere thought that Hermione was promising herself to another hurt.

Fleur wanted desperately to go to Hermione and spend her last night as an unmarried woman with her, but it wasn't her place. She was a friend, a roommate. Nothing more to Hermione than that and she wouldn't ask for more until the time was right. Tomorrow she would attend her destined's wedding to a man who was completely wrong for her, she'd clap and smile, she'd cry, but her tears would be of agony and mourning.

You can't escape fate. It ensnares you for eternity and no matter what you do, you can't fight it. You can't force it, you can't rush it, and you can't run away from it. No matter how many tangles and knots form in your thread. You can't escape.