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the thirteenth of february, 1999. twelve weeks and a day until the first year ‘after the war’. the first year of a darker, seemingly meaningless lif for the first girl born to her family for generations, ginevra molly weasley. counting, in other words, her coping mechanism. 

she could count and count and forget the moment. it would have seemed harmless had the odd habit not been formed under the weary aftermath of a cruciatus curse. she could forget the moment. that’s all that mattered. she could add up seconds in her mind and make being held under a death eater’s wand seem more like a game than a punishment. she was trying to forget. she was, it just didn’t work until that particular late winter day. 

luna lovegood. peculiar. unique. unforgettable. arguably the most memorable ravenclaw of that hogwarts generation. in other, more harsh, words - loony. she loved that about her. not immediately of course. it was hardly luna’s fault that her peers viewed her creative spark as a medium of insanity. not her fault that her blunt honesty left her in the same room, with same curse cast on her, with ginny, in the great battle of hogwarts. 

they hadn’t talked about it. not after the war, not on that day and not once they were finally happy together. they didn’t have to. when you suffer with someone, it brings you closer, regardless of either persons’ intentions. 

it started on february thirteenth. “hello.” luna sat down next ginny in the grass by the weeping willow, “this seat isn’t taken is it?” ginny didn’t answer so luna didn’t ask again. they sat quietly. 

until of course luna realised exactly what was wrong with ginny, “you’ve not run into nargles have you?” “what?” ginny spoke for the first time that day next to a girl with hair blindingly blonde and eyes glassy and all seeing, all believing. “nargles,” luna continued, “are notoriously known for being mischievous thieves,” ginny really hadn’t been in the mood that day - but luna had the kind of way with words that made ignoring her extremely difficult - even for someone like ginny, “nargles can take anything from a sock to a quill, but they almost always end up having a catastrophic effect on whomever they steal from,” ginny found herself both confused and amused at the same time, “have you lost anything recently?” ginny laughed. luna smiled. 

“I’ve lost something I can never get back.” this was the first time ginny saw luna look genuinely perplexed, “are you sure? nargles can be quite frustrating but they’re not impossible to get rid of, I can help if you want...” ginny laughed a little again but before she could stop herself she was crying. her laughs turned to sobs and tears spilled down her cheeks. “I think I can help you.” luna didn’t seem fazed at all by the crying girl in front of her, “and I think you can help me.” ginny’s voice broke through her sobs and she replied shakily, “how could someone like me,” ginny looked up at luna, “help someone like you?” luna smiled again and ginny noticed how she had eyes clear both clear and blue, wise and young, all at the same time. 

“it’s my birthday today. but I seem to have lost my birthday cake.”  ginny didn’t stop sniffling but raised her eyebrows all the same and a moment later she was laughing. not the empty laugh she’d become used to hearing from herself. a hearty laugh that was real and loud and there. “how can you lose your birthday cake?” luna didn’t answer ginny’s question but she did continue, “you can’t have a birthday party without a birthday cake and you can’t have a party without friends...” ginny was surprised at that, luna was always talking to someone - how could someone like her not have friends? “would you like to be my friend and help me find my birthday cake?” 

it looked like ginny had woken up - like everything before luna’s proposal had been a dream like nightmare, “how can helping you find your birthday cake help me?” luna gave ginny one of her ‘you know why’ looks but explained all the same...

It wasn't even that she hadn't met her soulmate yet. She had. Her name had been burned into her wrist since birth, and Fleur had managed to say hello to Hermione Granger shortly after she'd arrived. The Ravenclaw house had been eager to tell the Beauxbatons students all about the past three years they'd had. Stories of Harry Potter, and the horrors they'd dealt with.

Harry Potter and his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

It was simple to say hello when she'd seen her in the hall, shortly after the chaos of Fleur being chosen as a Champion. Fleur was confused. Hermione must have noticed Fleur's name was on her wrist, so why had she rolled her eyes at Fleur? She'd tried her hardest to make her “hello” into something flirty and friendly at the same time, so why hadn't it worked?

But no, the younger girl had turned aside, a “hullo,” barely slipping out of her lips as she moved to walk in the opposite direction of Fleur. Her best friend, Anna, gave her a sympathetic pat on her shoulder, and Fleur pursed her lips. Fine. Being soulmates didn't mean that things would always be easy. She'd seen enough soulmates in her time to know.

–

Things had only gotten tougher as time went on.

Fleur had only been trying to help when she'd asked to speak to Hermione alone. She'd found out about the first task, and she thought that if she told Hermione, who could tell Harry, that perhaps she would earn the younger girl's trust.

But Hermione had turned her down, saying that she and Harry had to study. Harry had shot her a friendly wave, before walking away with Hermione. Their friend, Ron, offered to go speak alone with Fleur in Hermione's place, but Fleur turned him down as nicely as possible.

Fleur sighed and shook her head. She wasn't sure what she was doing wrong, but it had to be something. Shaking her head, she turned to find some of the Ravenclaw girls she knew to see if they could figure out the problem.

–

Fleur was frustrated. None of her friends could figure out what she was doing wrong. Hermione had started responding to her, but never in anything more than several syllables, before walking away.

It was exasperating. Especially when she would see couples together in the halls. Not only was that a problem, but so was trying to figure out the Second Task. She had finally realized that it would require being underwater for an hour, but now she had to decide how, exactly, she was going to do that.

Hermione occasionally caught her eye, curling up at a table or in a window seat with another large book. More and more Hermione smiled, casually, in her direction, until one day Fleur gained up the courage to wave at the girl.

The subsequent smile and wave made Fleur's heart beat faster. It was definitely a good sign. Still, she wouldn't rush things. She put her head back in her book, struggling to decipher the English textbook that she needed to comprehend for a test the next day. Her English was good, but some of the book was very old and dry.

She was interrupted only twice by potential suitors, most likely due to her Veela blood, but she turned them down with a carefully placed few words. Maybe before she'd found her soulmate, she might even have found one or two of them pleasant.

Pleasant, but not nearly as attractive and interesting as Hermione was and seemed to be. Now, if only she could get the girl to have a conversation with her.

–

Fleur was ready to scream. All she heard about was the Yule Ball. It had even taken priority over finding a good spell and plan for the Second Task. Her Beauxbatons classmates had been a mix of sad and intrigued. Some were worried; they had yet to find their soulmate, and didn't want to go alone. Those students were the easiest for Fleur to try to reassure. After all, there were plenty of people there that didn't have their soulmate yet, so they would have plenty of choices.

But those like Fleur, who knew who their soulmate was, well, all Fleur could do was commiserate. She had barely had more than four conversations with Hermione, and as every day passed, Fleur got more and more concerned that Hermione would choose someone else as her Yule date.

Finally, seeing Hermione enter the library, she forced herself to work up the nerve. She shut her book when she caught Hermione's eye, and walked right over to sit next to her. “Hermione, I think we need to talk.”

“We are talking,” Hermione said.

“About our soulmate marks,” Fleur said. She fingered the cuff of her robes that hid the name on her wrist.

“Oh.” Hermione's face twisted slightly, looking upset. “Is that the only reason we're talking?”

“Well, we could talk about something else, if you would prefer. But I thought we would mention them, so it could stop being uncomfortable.” Fleur decided to just go for it. She had been working hard to get Hermione to like her, but she also wanted to be desired for herself, too, not just how hard she could try to get someone else to like her. “I've been trying to talk to you about it for awhile, but you are always too busy.”

Fleur stopped fingering her cuff, and then pulled it up, revealing Hermione's name written in precise script on her wrist. Hermione glanced in all directions, looking scandalized, before Fleur shoved her cuff back down. “What are you doing?” Hermione hissed.

“Showing you my mark,” Fleur said. “Obviously.”

Hermione looked Fleur up and down, her eyes still wide. Suddenly it hit Fleur that this might be a huge cultural taboo to her. It had never been a problem among soulmates in France, and especially not in Veela culture. But Hermione Granger was not only English, but also a Muggleborn. Things might be very different at Hogwarts. Fleur sighed. “I apologize. I did not mean to cross a line,” she said.

“Right. Well.” Hermione took a deep breath and then looked at her. “That's my name. In my handwriting.”

“Yes,” Fleur agreed.

There was a long pause, and Fleur glanced down at the textbook that Hermione had propped open when she'd entered. It was about water creatures, and Fleur smiled and looked up at her. She leaned forward and kept her voice soft. “Harry has figured out the Second Task, too?”

“Oh,” Hermione started to slam shut her book, and then thought better of it. “Then you must know, too.”

“Of course.” No need to hide her pride. Headmistress Maxime might have helped her with the last Task, but Fleur had figured the egg out all on her own. “I like bathing, and the egg goes with me wherever I go. Safer.” She leaned back and opened the separate large bag that she carried, showing Hermione the egg.

“Yes, we can't trust Hogwarts students, now can we?” Hermione was angry again.

“Any other students. I care about them, but sometimes they are nosy, and that is not always pleasant.” Fleur tucked the egg away. “If I had any ideas, I would offer some hints,” Fleur said. She meant it. Hints would only be fair, after the “hint” she'd been given by her Headmistress.

Hermione shut the book, slowly, and then looked at Fleur. “So you're still trying to figure out a plan?”

Fleur grimaced. “Yes.” She didn't like to admit it, to anyone, really. She had her pride, not just as the representative and Champion of Beauxbatons, but also as a Veela. “I'm still uncertain of my plan.”

There was silence for a full minute after that, Fleur looking at Hermione. Her beautiful curly hair, her dark brown skin, her expressive eyes. Eyes that seemed to be looking Fleur over, too. Finally, their eyes met. Fleur wondered if she should lean in and try a kiss, but told herself to stay still. They would have their whole lives to kiss, and Fleur didn't want to ruin the moment.

“I have something to tell you,” Hermione said. Her voice was barely a whisper. She reached down to her cuff and pulled it up, just slightly. “Just because your name is on my wrist doesn't mean I'm going to fall all over you.” Her words were quiet as they both just stared at Fleur's slanted handwriting on Hermione's delicate wrist.

Reaching forward, Fleur touched her name, and Hermione drew her hand back, pulling it to her chest. She slid the cuff back down.

“I will not push myself on you, ever.” Fleur promised. “Veela's take soulmates very seriously.”

“So I've read.”

Fleur blinked repeatedly. “You were reading about us?”

“We don't have much in the library,” Hermione admitted. “But I wanted to learn more about your culture, and why you affect everyone else but me.”

“It would be cruel to affect our soulmates,” Fleur said. “If we're to be with someone for life, and know that we are meant for them, we would never do anything to pressure them, even when it comes to our basic biology.”

Hermione nodded, as if absorbing the information. “Do you have any books about Veela culture?” she asked.

Fleur thought about it, and then nodded. “I can owl home for some.” Then she frowned. “But they will be in French.”

“That would be wonderful!” Hermione said. She nodded, enthusiastically. “I'm, well, studying French. Or at least I have been, since I heard your name. I wanted to be able to speak to you in French.” She blushed. “Reading more in French might help. And you can help, of course.”

“Of course.” Fleur grinned. “I would love to help you.” She felt her heart fluttering at the thought that Hermione might have seemed standoffish to Fleur to her face, but had been working towards their relationship behind her back.

“Do you know much about Muggle culture?” Hermione asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Fleur hesitated. She was in Muggle Studies, but she had to be honest. “No. Perhaps you can be my teacher?”

“Yes! Muggle Studies here are a joke.” Hermione shook her head. “They try, but once I had to correct the teacher on what, exactly, the importance of computers really is.”

Taking a deep breath, Fleur decided to go for it. “Would you be willing to teach me more at the Yule Ball? As my date?”

The look of shock on Hermione's face was adorable, and Fleur tried to memorize it even as it faded. Nodding slowly, Hermione agreed to be her date. “But I want to meet in two days to share books,” she insisted.

She knew Cho from her brief time in Dumbledore's Army, and how Cho had supported her friend that had ratted them all out.

Loyalty was one thing, but messing with the only organization working to take down the Dark Lord was another. And then there was Harry's broken heart, which bothered Ginny because nobody hurts her brothers, and Harry was an honorary brother, after all. And so maybe, just maybe, Ginny was playing extra aggressive whenever she got near Cho on the pitch.

Which might have left them both with bruises and cuts, but in the end of the game, Gryffindor won, and that was all Ginny cared about right then. She turned to give a vicious smile to Cho, but the other girl had already turned away, landing down with her team and carefully ignoring the cheering from the Gryffindors. Ginny let it go, and instead went back to cheering with her team.

---

As long as Ginny ignored her Potions essay until the last minute, she would have plenty of time to get some extra practice on the Quidditch pitch. She had spoken to Harry, who was busy studying thanks to Hermione, and he'd given her his key to the locker room and balls.

It was harder to practice on her own, but she could try out some new flying moves, at the very least. She wanted to stay ahead, and to just be able to enjoy the thrill of flying and letting the moves flow from her to the broom to the players and scores.

Unfortunately, by the time she got down there, someone was already flying. And they weren't Gryffindors, or else Harry wouldn't have still had his key. She squinted up in the air as she ducked into the locker room and changed, grabbing her own broom. Whoever it was would just have to share.

Once she grabbed a Quaffle and hit the sky, however, Ginny realized that going out was a mistake. Cho was out there, and she definitely wasn't someone Ginny wanted scoping out her moves. She'd already had a chance to scope out their protection spells in the DA, and she wasn't going to let her use her and her friends anymore.

Except that Ginny really did want to try the new move that Fred had owled her about. So she would just try her bloody hardest to pretend that Cho wasn't there. She swooped up high, spun, and dove straight towards the ground. She tried to pull up at the last second, but her broom, old as it was, couldn't handle it. And since it was Ginny's first try, she couldn't stop it.

She was plummeting towards the ground when she heard a large cry, and a spell being shouted down. Ginny's broom shuddered to a stop a few meters from the ground, and she allowed herself to drop off of it, and stare up, her heart pounding so hard she was sure it was going to fly out of her chest.

She saw Cho come down to the ground as fast, but as safely, as she could, and then she hopped off next to Ginny. “Are you okay?”

“I can't get hurt that easy,” she lied. “I knew what I was doing.”

“It didn't look like it,” Cho said.

“Well, why were you watching me, when you have your own bloody moves to be working on?” Ginny snapped. She was embarrassed, she could admit that much. She had been in danger, and if Cho hadn't noticed, she might have ended up visiting Madame Pomfry, after lying pathetically on the ground for a few hours.

Cho glared, and then turned around. “I thought I was helping. It's not like I was stealing your moves. I'm a seeker, and you're not. Why would I care about the Skalensky Swoop that you were trying? Next time I won't bother.”

Ginny's ears perked up when she heard Cho say the proper name for Ginny's aborted move. “How did you hear about it?”

“Hear about what?”

“About the move?” Ginny said. “It's still new.”

“The chaser for the Tutshill Tornados invented it,” Cho said. “Of course I know all about it. They're my team.” A small gleam shown in her eyes, a smile dancing across her face. “My mother owled me all about the game that I missed, and described the whole thing in such detail that The Daily Prophet didn't even do it justice.”

“Fred did the same thing,” Ginny said. “Though he did it because he thought I'd like the move, not because I care about the Tornados. You should know that. Harry must have mentioned how much better the Cannons are.”

Cho's scowl was fierce. “The Tornados are much better than the Cannons! You should know that, if you're trying some of the Tornados player's moves.” She walked away after that, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she walked.

Ginny stood there, glaring as Cho left. Just because she wanted to take a move from them didn't make them a better team. She glared at Cho, and then down at the broom that was sitting on the grass next to her. She should leave, too. Instead, Ginny stayed to work on some of her other moves.

She purposefully ignored the part of her that wanted to hunt down Cho and ask her to spot her while she tried the move again. She was just fine practicing on her own.

--–

They both ended up on the pitch for individual practice less than a week later. This time she was on the pitch first, before Cho came. She kept an eye on her, and tried the Skalensky Swoop, managing to maneuver the broom just right, so she came up a few meters above Cho. “Figured it out,” Ginny told her.

“Good for you,” Cho said. “I'm just here to relax, so if you could leave me alone, that'd be great.”

She tried to look away, but Ginny flew alongside her. “You were crying,” she said. Cho's face was still splotchy, and it wasn't dark enough for Ginny not to notice, even though she was flying above her.

Whether she hated her or not, Ginny landed. She didn't feel the same sense of satisfaction at seeing Cho having cried as she thought she would have. “What's wrong?”

“We're not friends. We’re not even close,” Cho said. “I don't really feel like sharing.”

“Fine,” Ginny snapped. She flew up, and away, and then hesitated. She watched Cho mount her broom, and go through some regular warm-ups, before she made up her mind. She flew over to where Cho was, and grinned. “Let's race. First through the largest hoop on the other side of the pitch wins.”

Cho stared at her blankly for a few seconds, before nodding her head. Ginny figured she might agree. Flying fast and flying hard always helped Ginny to relax.

It was three races later when Cho was smiling again. “Marietta decided not to spend time with me anymore,” Cho said, out of the blue.

Ginny frowned. “But you left Dumbledore's Army for her!”

“We were more than friends,” Cho said. Ginny almost didn't hear her, her voice nearly snatched away in the wind. “But she's found someone new, and now she doesn't even want to be friends.”

“I'm sorry,” Ginny said, and found that she meant it. She knew how awkward that sort of break-up was.

“You're not weirded out?” Cho asked. She sounded fearful. She wondered how many people even knew Cho and Marietta were dating.

“I like guys and girls, Cho,” Ginny said. She rolled her eyes. “I thought everyone knew that.”

“I didn't.” Cho looked at her, and then shook her head. Her broom bobbed a bit with her movements. “Thank you for distracting me.”

“Anytime,” Ginny said. “Just send an owl.”

–--

Ginny was really pleased with the notes she'd been getting from Cho, which had started with asking her to meet her to race, and then ended up being longer, more personal. It had gotten to the point where Ginny was pretty sure that they'd started flirting. And that gave their next private races, a week after Gryffindor beat Slytherin, a different feeling.

It was hard for Ginny to focus on her classes, imagining Cho on the pitch and smiling at her. She was glad once they were out, even though she doubted she would remember a thing. At least she could ask Luna for notes in some of her important classes.

She practically ripped the key from Harry's hand and ran down to the pitch, but Cho was still there first. She must have skipped dinner, or at least had a light one. Ginny's grin grew as she watched Cho's hair fly in the wind behind her. She was beautiful and so graceful in the air. Ginny wanted to rough her up, and so she called down to Cho, and when she looked down, Ginny hoped Cho's seeker's eyes would see Ginny pointing with her full arm towards the lockers.

Ginny ducked in, and then waited just outside them, on the Pitch's side. Cho landed and was walking over to her, opening her mouth to say something, when Ginny cut her off with a kiss. She'd sprinted the short distance between them and was kissing her with everything she had.

Her fingers wound through Cho's hair, and she ended the kiss by sucking hard on Cho's lower lip. “How about we check out the locker rooms?” Ginny asked.