Semi AU: Hermione's and Fleur's paths have never crossed until now.

Summary: A secret admirer? An anonymous friend? Hermione has been receiving secret letters from a certain Mysterious F. (Fleurmione fanfic. Don't Like Fleur/Hermione? Go Away.)

A/N: This is my Valentines treat to all my dear readers and reviewers. Thank you for giving my writing a sense of purpose again. This is meant to be a two-chapter drabble. Something short to sweeten your day!

The Mysterious F

By Sleek Ink

1

The first note wasn't anything bizarre. Except that it was anyonymous. And the author probably left it for no one in particular.

It was just a slip of parchment tucked in between the pages of 'Northern Lights', a muggle novel which Hermione was fond of reading when she wanted to escape the demands of wizarding academia for a bit. It was ironic actually. Her diversion from magic came in the form of muggle's notions of magic. She found these fantasy novels quite rousing. It brought out magic's scintillating fumes filled with quests and mysteries. A far cry from the university's take on it as an academic discipline stripped dry of wonder. And this was the part that Hermione liked about the novels most. The puzzles. The questions that challenge her thinking to delve deeper beyond the surface.

So it was no surprise that the note immediately captivated her attention. It was written in a flowing, elegant script in indigo ink, woven into a sentence. A question.

Do you think animal daemons are evil? Or could they simply be Patronuses?

-F.

She wondered who would randomly leave a note like this. As far as she knew, no other student showed any interest in reading muggle fantasy novels like she did. Hermione peered at the other occupants of the library.

They were all immersed in their own worlds, ensconced inside reading nooks , study desks lined by low, wooden partitions. The library was the size of two, cavernous cathedrals and is renowned for being one of the largest libraries in the wizarding world. Floor to ceiling shelves loomed like skyscrapers, housing a plethora of magical knowledge which many a wizard would travel far for to peruse the secrets pressed between the pages. And at this university, every student valued the privilege of learning. Well, most everyone.

The delicate features of the brunette fluttered into a scowl when she spied a platinum blonde woman to her far right. She was using four books, stacked upon each other as a pillow. Atop the books were slender arms, criss-crossed to cradle a slumbering face. Blissfully shut eyes were fringed with long lashes of dark ochre, casting a watercolour shadow on the gentle slope of her fair cheeks.

Hmp. Hermione inwardly huffed. Fleur Delacour. She'd recognise those silvery locks anywhere. She was a part Veela and some sort of a model for a witch's fashion magazine and was easily the most sought after witch at school. She might be beautiful, but her face was ruining artifacts of knowledge that took years to preserve. Hermione fought the urge to poke the slumbering blonde to make her shriek. That will definitely earn the ire of the librarian.

Hermione shook her head. Well, this is just a first warning. Maybe the next time I see her do this, she will definitely be sorry. Besides, there is an interesting question from a mysterious F that awaits a response.

Scrunching her forehead in concentration, Hermione proceeded to pen her reply at the back of the parchment, wedged it between the pages of the book and returned it on the shelf.

.

2

Dear H,

I agree that Patronuses could be part of our subconscious, a reflection of who we are at our bravest, most positive state. But the subconscious also has a negative state, and one might wonder if you thought of the most ghastly, negative memory, would it conjure an anti-Patronus? Just a thought really. Anyway, I find it amusing that these muggle novels reinforce evidence that magic exists. That magic is matter. A thought that undergoes a process to manifest itself into reality.

By the way, this parchment is enchanted. Its pair is with me. So you don't need to put it back inside the book. Whatever you write here, will reflect in mine. What other books are you interested in?

-F

Dear F,

It is rather intriguing isn't it? But there are muggle studies that show how human thoughts affect the tiniest particles at the quantum level. I wouldn't be surprised if they come to understand and eventually wield magic in their own way. After all, what makes us different from muggles are not magical blood (as some of us are muggle-borns), but skill and knowledge. We have learned to fuel and direct our thoughts into a formula, a spell, to create magic. By the way, I read somewhere of a wizard who accidentally conjured an anti-Patronus, I think that was how the first Dementor was made. You should read the work of Sam Baggins on this one.

I am currently engrossed in the book by Patrick Rothfuss, 'The Name of the Wind'. Have you read it? What books are you reading now?

-H

P.S.

Thank you for the parchment. Did you use a Protean Charm or something similar?

.

3

And so the friendship between H and F began on parchment and ink.

They feverishly wrote back and forth. Firing questions. Launching answers. A volley of ideas and musings, even exchanging a stray joke or two. Though they have never talked about anything personal, Hermione felt a certain something forming. A curl. A loop. A tenuous link that made her feel a little less lonely.

Hermione's hands would shiver with a thrill whenever she sees the indigo ink bloom in an elegant script across the parchment. Though all of their letters were wiped away after being read by the other, Hermione made it a point to carefully remember every reply made by the mysterious F. It was refreshing to find another person, an intriguing mind who shared the same curiosity and hunger.

Ever since she started studying at the university, she only made a few acquaintances. Having been branded as 'One of the Golden Trio' has made peers keep her at an arm's length. Though she appreciated the respectful regard, it was the same cordial distance given to their professors.

The brunette witch sighed. She missed her friends so much. Harry and Ron. Ginny, Luna…all of the students she grew up with who knew her before she was Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's friend who helped defeat Voldemort. Heck, after being given too many polite smiles and inane nods, she even missed the dripping disdain of Draco Malfoy.

A sudden flash of silver caught Hermione's attention.

She saw the approach of a blonde woman whose graceful sway of the hips and long-legged, catwalk strut drew every eye and captured every breath of most living beings in the Dining Hall. Saunter saunter. Forward. Closer. And before she knew it those crystalline blue eyes and blindingly pristine smile stepped directly into Hermione's nonplussed gaze.

'Is zis seat taken?' The deeply feminine voice slid against Hermione's ears like cool silk.

'Well, obviously it is occupied by a throng of people.' Hermione groused as she skewered a piece of chicken with a fork. If Fleur was here, it meant her flock of fans won't be too far away. And she didn't quite fancy being flanked by people who would titter with Fleur's every move. Or worse, gab about fashion, parties, celebrity scandals and all the other things she overheard Fleur's clique talk about.

Unperturbed, the blonde took the seat across Hermione and murmured her order to the empty plate before her. Black coffee, butter croissants and a cheese omelet appeared. With the grace of a queen, the blonde lifted her cutlery and began making precise slices and chewed thoughtfully in tiny bites.

Fleur felt the intensity of Hermione's frown as she ate.

'Are you always zis sunny? Or have you just decided to judge me as bad company?' The blonde smirked at the momentary surprise flaring on Hermione's face.

Judging? I'm not. Well maybe. It's just that…

'How come you are not sitting with your fan club?' Hermione's tone made it sound more like an accusation than a question.

Fleur set her cutlery down and gave Hermione her full attention.

'Well, believe it or not Mademoiselle Granger, I came here to get to know you a bit better. Is zat a crime?'

'Umm..' Hermione rifled through her thoughts. She didn't know if having Fleur for company is offensive or not. She knew she was being a tad irascible. Now that she comes to think of it, she didn't know why she felt this way in the first place. 'I'm sorry. I just…it has been a while since someone sought my company. And you are a senior who usually ate with a certain clique. You just caught me off guard.'

'Maybe you shouldn't be so guarded then.'

The blonde's voice was gentle. As whisper-soft as the fingers that Hermione felt was easing away the tension from her knitted brows.

Fleur Delacour, a student she barely exchanged any word with, was touching her forehead right in the middle of a very crowded Dining Hall. How…odd. Yet not at all unpleasant. Hermione felt the corners of her lips lift a fraction.

'See? When you stop frowning, uzzer people won't be so scared to approach you, ma belle.' The blonde witch said as she withdrew her hand.

Belle. That meant beautiful, right? No. It must be just one of those everyday endearments the French casually toss out. Wait, what does she mean about my frowning?

'Um, so you are saying I scare people away?'

'I'm saying zat smiling suits you more. It brings out ze light in your eyes.'

Fleur said it with such raw sincerity Hermione almost believed her. Almost. She still didn't answer her question directly, and Hermione didn't like being dodged. But before she could think of an appropriate response, Fleur suddenly leaned forward and stilled all of her thoughts with those incandescent blue eyes.

There was so much sunlight in that gaze Hermione couldn't help but suffused with soft warmth.

'Ermione. There is zis Dueling Dance ze senior class is hosting zis Saturday. It would be a pleasure if you can come as my partner.'

Hermione sputtered on her pumpkin juice.

'Wha-t?!' She choked. For someone so smart, Hermione couldn't quite grasp the exact meaning of partner.

Without missing a beat, Fleur swept off her seat and was beside Hermione in a second. Her right hand patted the brunette's back to help clear her throat while her other hand was swiftly brushing down a dry napkin against the younger witch's soaked collar.

''Ere's ze invitation. I'll meet you at ze entrance of the Dining 'all by 8 o'clock. I'm Fleur Delacour by the way. In case you didn't catch my name.' Fleur said as she considered Hermione dry enough and stepped away to give the brunette space.

'I know who you are.' Hermione said, glad that her voice was steady even if her pulse was not.

'Actually 'Ermione, you don't.'

And with that Fleur left, leaving Hermione with an ivory envelope and a dusky flush that blossomed on her pale cheeks.

TBC (One more chapter and we're done! If you like it, review it. Thanks!)