Apolline Delacour was many things: cold, intimidating, proud. But she was also a loving mother. She had sacrificed much to raise her daughters in the Delacour way. While she did not regret taking a hard hand with her parenting, she had feared that her stern parenting had pushed Fleur to move to Britain and Gabrielle to move to Scandinavia.

Apolline was sitting in her large wooden home office by the fireplace in a lavish armchair. She had allowed herself the luxury of kicking her high heels off and was relishing the plush fur rug between her toes.

She had just picked up her glass of red wine and was nursing it in her long emerald nailed hand when there was a rap at the door and a maid entered. The maid was comically wrangling a large owl that was trying to nip at her, but managed to pry the letter from the owl to deliver it to Apolline.

Apolline inclined her head politely at the maid and waited until the girl had left the room with the squirming owl before she allowed herself the luxury of reaction. She could recognise the neat, looping scrawl at fifty paces. It was a letter from Fleur.

The door had barely snapped shut behind the maid when Apolline tore the letter open frantically. Tears welled in her eyes as she read the long letter from Fleur, informing her of what she had been up to since leaving France. It was near the end of the letter when Apolline reached the point for Fleur breaking her silence. She had met her mate.

It was rare for those with diluted Veela blood to have a mate, but for those that do, it is a fantastic experience. Apolline was overjoyed for Fleur. Overjoyed, but nervous. She knew the implications of her daughter being so heavily bonded to another for life.

Six months later, when Fleur came for a rare visit to her family in France, it was obvious she was nervous too. Fleur was usually of a reserved and cold demeanour like her mother. But on bringing her fiancé to the Delacour mansion, she appeared uncharacteristically nervous. Her long silver-blonde hair was in a plait hanging over her shoulder, which she was fiddling with. Her perfect white teeth were biting at a soft lip anxiously.

Beside her was a handsome, broad-shouldered young man. He had a chiselled jaw and long-ish red hair that he had tied back. Seeming to sense the nervousness in his fiancée, he put an arm around her, reassuring her. Fleur immediately appeared to relax, a smile adorning her beautiful face.

And it was in this moment that Apolline met Fleur and her fiancé together in the entranceway of the mansion.

Bill Weasley was an incredibly handsome, tall, well-muscled man with an infectious smile. The second Apolline entered the entranceway to get them, he strode up to her and engulfed the surprised woman in a warm hug (Apolline would eventually learn this was a habit he had picked up from his mother).

Most visitors to the Delacour mansion were intimidated. Over the years, the teenaged Fleur and Gabrielle had brought many paramours home to meet Apolline, only for them to become so terrified and intimidated that they would make an excuse to leave within the first ten minutes.

But Bill was different. He accompanied them into the sitting room and appeared entirely at ease, sitting back in a chair and making polite inquiries. In return, he also responded to every single one of Apolline's needling questions with an easy quirked smile.

In fact, it wasn't long into meeting Bill that Apolline herself was smiling and laughing more easily than she had in years. This seemed to startle Fleur at first, but soon she was also at ease and smiling.

And perhaps this showed one of the one of the best things about Bill: he mended the tensions between Apolline and her daughter.

Fleur began to return to France more frequently to visit her mother and relatives, even inviting Apolline to England on many occasions. Apolline even walked Fleur down the aisle at her wedding to Bill, beaming as the redheaded young man smiled warmly at them both.

But then the war broke out. Apolline had urged the young couple to retreat to France to stay with her in the safety of Delacour mansion. But even as she had offered, she knew it simply was not in Fleur or Bill's nature to back away from assisting in a war.

Apolline could not sleep well after that. She would lie in her canopied bed listening to the wind and rain lash the mansion and think of all the different horrors that could strike Fleur and Bill.

It on one of these nights when there was a loud crashing noise. Apolline sat up in bed in a cold sweat, wondering if it was the crash of thunder outside. But then there was another rapping and she realised it had come from the window. She got up from her bed, wrapping her dressing gown around herself and strode to the window, pulling a curtain back to reveal a rain-drenched owl rapping desperately at the pane of glass.

Apolline opened her window quickly, just allowing enough time for the owl to jump in before snapping it shut to keep the cold and rain out. Apolline scooped the owl up, taking it over to her crackling fireplace which was still flaming with embers.

With a swish of her wand she had dried the owl and she untied the letter from its leg and dried that too. She grabbed a small bag of owl treats absent-mindedly from the hearth as she shook open the letter, scanning its message intently in the dim light of the ebbing fire.

She dropped the bag of owl treats as a gasp escaped her mouth. The war was over.

The little owl greedily flapped to the floor and began pecking at loose owl treats that had fallen out of the bag. Apolline kept reading.

The next sentence caused Apolline's blood to run cold. Bill was dead.

Apolline was surprised at the restraint Fleur exhibited at Bill's funeral. Apolline gripped her daughter's arm, watching as Bill's coffin was slowly lowered into the ground, silent tears streaming down her face. But as she looked at her daughter, the young widow was dry eyed and stoney faced. Apolline frowned.

As soon as the service was over, Fleur pulled her arm out of her mother's grip, striding away without a word. She ignored greetings and approaches from everyone as she walked away, disappearing around the corner of the small church.

"She's probably in shock," someone said awkwardly at Apolline's elbow. Apolline turned to see a bushy haired young woman, offering her a glass of water.

"Eet ees somezing else altogezzer," Apolline said snappily with a frown, brushing past the woman to follow her the path of her daughter. To her incredible annoyance, the young woman followed.

"Can I help? I'm a qualified mediwitch," the bushy haired woman asked, her voice laced with concern.

Apolline whirled around, irritated by this woman's interruption.

"'Oo are you? I do not see 'ow zis would be any of your business." Apolline said curtly. She turned back to following the direction where Fleur had gone, not waiting for a response.

The bushy haired woman kept pace, continuing to look worried, "I'm Hermione Granger. I'm a family friend of the Weasleys and fought with Fleur in the war. Sh-she helped me recover in the war and I would like to help her if something is wrong."

Apolline didn't have a chance to throw another retort Hermione as they rounded the corner of the church. Apolline gasped. Fleur was on the ground, deathly pale, her blonde hair strewn out around her on the grass. Apolline ran to her side, kneeling on the ground and cradling Fleur's head in her hands. Hermione ran to kneel at the other side of Fleur, immediately checking her vitals.

Fleur opened her eyes weakly.

"Maman…" she murmured, "It hurts…"

She lifted an arm weakly, gesturing to her chest. Hermione looked baffled.

"Wh-what is it?" Hermione asked, paling. Apolline sighed and looked up from the pained expression of her daughter.

"Ze Veela…" Apolline said, her heart heavy as she found the words to articulate in English, "…Cannot survive losing zeir mate…"

Apolline sat in a small chair beside her daughter's hospital bed. Fleur was asleep, her long dark lashes flickering as if she was having bad dreams. Apolline wrung her hands.

She had owled Gabrielle as soon as they had got to the hospital, but it would be some time before the owl would reach her.

There was a small clink at the side table beside her and Apolline looked up to see a pair of warm chocolate eyes.

"Cup of tea?" Hermione said quietly, in her polite British accent. Apolline sighed. The girl grated her, but she had been helpful. The second they had reached St. Mungos, Hermione had pulled her Golden Trio strings to get Fleur the best doctor on Fleur's case and even volunteered to assist the doctor with researching the case.

"Merci," Apolline said, her voice husky from having sat at Fleur's side without a drink for so long, "Alzough I would much razzer a wine in moments like zis." Hermione smiled.

"They didn't have that in the hospital caf' unfortunately," Hermione said, quirking a smile. Apolline smiled tightly back before taking a much needed sip of her tea.

"I don't mean to be rude," Hermione said, breaking the silence, "But shouldn't you have anticipated this would happen the moment you got the news about Bill?"

Apolline shook her head sadly, "She eez only un quarter Veela, I 'ad zought zat would spare 'er from ze curse of zis. Ozzers wiz diluted blood 'ave experienced no symptoms after losing a mate. I guess my Fleur eez just unlucky."

Hermione looked thoughtful and rubbed at her forearm meaningfully. Apolline looked curiously at the arm. There were a couple of incredibly faded scars, but nothing else of note there.

"I was once unlucky, and then I found my luck again," Hermione murmured, looking at the sleeping figure of Fleur. She cleared her throat and then moved abruptly to the door.

"Where are you going?" Apolline asked, vaguely interested by the strange bushy haired girl.

"To find a cure," Hermione said firmly, before disappearing from the doorway into the darkness of the hallway.