Heart My Soul Speak

AN: I don't own any of the characters! I'm replacing this chapter with an edited version! Thank you to my beta Falling Thunderbolt!

Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service.

The Tempest, 3.1

Shakespeare

Chapter 1

It had been but four years since her grand-mère explained the complexities of what it meant to be a Veela. She could still smell the lavender in the air, instantly taking her back to that warm summer night. Grand-mère had taken advantage of the moonlight and divulged many secrets, told many tales, and planted the seed of hope in Fleur's heart. She had been but a young girl then, a young girl that heard about the legend of the Veela mate: that one person destined to be her soul mate for the rest of her life. Grand-mère mentioned that the moment when she found that special person would be magical. Time would stop, her lungs would cease to breathe, their magic would call out to each other in such a way that it'd impossible to ignore. Her very blood would quake with anticipation. Her fate would be sealed the second she laid eyes on her mate. Their futures would be forever tied as soon as they kissed. And not even death would part them after they completed the bond.

At the tender age of thirteen these complexities seemed more frightening than magical. Even so, she dreamed. Now at seventeen not all of the fear had vanished; but she welcomed her future and cherished her heritage. Somewhere deep inside she knew her mate would be waiting for her. Their meeting was imminent. It seemed as if the very air knew what was about to transpire.

-o-

As the enchanted Beauxbatons carriage swayed in the sky, her very soul wanted to escape; she was almost positive that her magic was hurrying the journey. Someone awaited her; she could smell it, feel it and almost see it. Until this day she hadn't put much stock in her grandmother's tales, thinking diluted Veela blood wouldn't feel such a strong pull—but how wrong she'd been. Her magic flowed out of her body and traveled to whoever it was that waited for her.

Only a few moments later the carriage landed with a resounding thud. Forgetting her poise and composure Fleur attempted a quick exit through the door, only to have her path blocked by Madam Maxime's large frame.

"Are 'ou in a 'urry?" asked the giant woman, a gentle smile grazing her lips.

Fleur could only blush and lower her gaze, much to the amusement of the giant headmistress.

"Je suis desole," replied Fleur taking a few steps back.

The soft smile never left the headmistress' lips; her large hand pushed the carriage door open, allowing a chilly Scottish breeze to cool the pale blue silk of the Beauxbatons' uniforms.

"Mademoiselles, 'emember 'oo you zeprezent," she said leading the entourage.

The instant Fleur touched solid ground her magic sought out her future mate. Her heart fluttered, her breath hitched, her usually flawless composure faltered. Some else's magic danced around her body, permeating her skin.

Her blue eyes immediately searched the sea of black Hogwarts robes; her mate's essence demanded her attention, the calling was too strong, she couldn't hide, she couldn't ignore it.

Like a Muggle compass she trusted her heritage to guide her: the Veela in her pointed straight to a group of black-robed students, venturing a second glace she noticed the red and gold trims on their uniforms. In the middle of that group she could see the outline of a girl being held up by two identical red-headed boys. Fleur had never seen them before, but even she could tell that their somber expressions seemed out of place.

The girl seemed weak, barely managing to stay upright. Even in her weaken state her inquisitive brown eyes seemed to be scanning the crowd, searching for something or someone. Fleur took this opportunity to take in the brunette; she was taken aback by the sight. The girl was beautiful. Her face was delicate with soft features; warm brown eyes that sparkled with curiosity, and wild brown curls swaying in the breeze.

You are beautiful ma cherie, thought Fleur.

Her view was suddenly obstructed by two boys speaking to her mate: one of them—the one with black hair—laid his hand on the brunette's forehead as if to check for a temperature. Distress and worry were obvious in their postures.

Their hushed whispers carried the short distance over to her; she heard them asking questions about her wellbeing and even a considering trip to the infirmary. But the girl in question ignored their queries, instead her brown eyes were now fixated on Fleur.

Time slowed to a snail's pace, brown met blue and both women were lost to the world. Magic rippled through the students and professors. It was almost as if it could talk, playful swirls of raw power teased both girls, drawing out soft blushes and shy smiles.

On their own accord Fleur's feet began to move, breaking away from the Beauxbatons delegation, guiding her straight to the blushing girl.

"Ezcusze moi," she whispered politely, squeezing past the two younger boys. She never saw their questioning stares, or how four hands immediately reached for wands.

"Mon coure," she whispered reaching for the young girl's hand, her very soul aching to touch her.

The two identical red-headed boys, suspicious of her, tried to tuck their charge safely behind them—but the girl wouldn't allow it, instead taking a shaky step forward she reached for Fleur's outstretched hand.

"Hello," said the girl, her eyes never leaving the blonde's. "What's happening?" she asked. There was no need to elaborate; the French witch knew exactly what she meant

"Ma cherie, I'm Fleur," replied the French girl, a soft smile tugging at her lips. The younger witch wavered a bit: Fleur took this opportunity to snake an arm around her waist, holding up much of her weight, "I'll tell you everything, come with me ma peite."

"Hermione, wait," called one of the boys. If Fleur had bothered to look back, she would've seen the lightning-bolt scar on the boy's forehead. But she had other matters to tend to; for now Hermione's friends could wait.

" 'ermione," whispered the blonde, leading the weak girl to the Beauxbatons entourage. It's a lovely name, she thought to herself.

The French witches had observed the entire exchange with interest. As soon as it became apparent that Fleur was heading in their direction they immediately opened up their ranks and just as quickly hid the two arrivals from view.

Fleur looked up to where Madame Maxime was conversing with the Hogwarts Headmaster, briefly meeting Dumbledore's twinkling eyes. If the professors had noticed her short absence neither seemed to mind, as they carried on their conversation.

" 'ermione," Fleur whispered, prompting Hermione to meet her blue eyes, "lean on me ma petite, we'll get you well soon, I promise."

AN: Please leave a review and let me know what you think!