Quick background story for this story: I wrote a oneshot called "Give and Give Up" about Roxanne having a crush on Scorpius, but having to give him up because Rose liked him. At the same time, I was (and still am) writing a series of drabbles called "A House Full of Gingers" so someone asked me to continue this story and give Roxanne a happy ending for one of the drabbles. Thus Matthieu was born. And when it came time for the celebration of my 100th chapter of "A House Full of Gingers", I conducted a poll and my readers voted for a story about Roxanne and Matthieu. So...

Disclaimer: I own Matthieu. Nothing else. A girl can only dream.

Disclaimer part 2: I'm not an artist. I know nothing about being an artist. I butchered my way through those parts, and they're probably really inaccurate representations of being an artist. Sorry.

Like most stories, this one begins with a girl.

A girl who wanted to wear pink in her cousin's wedding, but had to wear brown because all the other bridesmaids said pink would clash with their red hair.

A girl who didn't catch the bouquet even though she really, really wanted to.

A girl who had to argue with the bartender at said wedding over whether she was of drinking age.

All that this girl really wanted to do was have a drink. It had been a long night.

It was hard to watch the boy of your dreams marry your cousin.

But this girl – Roxanne Weasley was her name – she didn't want to think about that anymore. She was done staring at him from across the room and feeling sparks fly through her body when he high-fived her. She was tired of being in love with her best friend, her cousin's bo-husband.

She just wanted a beer.

But this idiot bartender, with his V-neck white t-shirt – like he was Simon bloody Cowell or something – thought that she was a sixteen-year-old.

Roxanne was a 23-year-old woman, and she was about to tell that jerk this when her cousin walked up behind her and greeted the bartender like an old friend. Because, well, they were old friends.

No, not the cousin that had just gotten married. That was Rose – Rose and her new hubby Scorpius. This cousin was Louis.

Roxanne had a lot of cousins. It was just something she had to deal with.

"You know this guy?" Roxie asked Louis as the pair shook hands.

"Yeah, he was in my Hogwarts year. Marshall, you know Roxanne?" Louis asked.

The guy smiled. "Yeah, from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team! Dude, you are a legend."

A legend. Right.

"So what can I get you?"

Roxanne considered slapping him, but it was a wedding, and she didn't need to make a scene. So she simply told the guy that she wanted a firewhiskey pleaseandthankyou and she sat back and turned to her cousin. "So what's up?"

"Well, I wasn't sure if you'd met Matthieu yet."

"Matthieu?"

It was only then that Roxie noticed the man standing behind Louis. He was an inch or two shorter than Louis, which was perhaps why she hadn't noticed him before.

"Hello," the man said in a heavy French accent.

"Ah, Bonjour," Roxanne responded. She wanted to say more, but the amount of French that she'd picked up from her cousins (Louis, Dominique, and Victoire, that is) was so minimal that she wasn't sure what else she could say.

"Matthieu's one of Mum's cousins. He's staying with me for the rest of the summer," Louis explained, stretching in a tired manner.

Matthieu smiled at her.

He had dimples. Oh, merlin. Dimples.

And when he smiled, the butterflies stirred in her stomach, just like they did when Scorpius smiled. And it was just a smile, but maybe it was really something more.

Louis was a bit spoiled, you see. He'd grown up with two older sisters, the younger of whom was six years older than him. The whole family had doted on him like he was a little prince. And he was a mamma's boy, there was no doubt. Fleur would do anything for her little boy.

When he graduated from Hogwarts, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. All of his cousins had these crazy plans and aspirations and knew what they wanted to get out of life. But Louis had always just lived for the thrill of Quidditch matches, even though he wasn't very good. He hadn't done his homework, but his performance on the O.W.L.'s was, well, nothing above average. He'd slacked off, but everyone had still loved him.

Maybe it had to do with being part-Veela.

Everybody wanted to be part-Veela, except for Louis.

Then again, Louis didn't really want anything.

When it came time for him to move out of Shell Cottage, he didn't even have a job to support himself with. So his parents paid rent for his flat. They made him work at Uncle George's joke shop for minimal hours, but he was barely even working what you'd consider "part-time." It was more like "I'll come in twice a week and you'll deal with it because I'm family."

Louis wasn't a bad kid. Definitely not. He was nice to everyone and he could be really sensitive. He had just always gotten his way throughout childhood, and now he was lost.

He had a nice apartment, though. His furniture was all very nice, not quite high-end, but not at all shabby. He had this sense of style that Roxanne wouldn't have associated with Louis. But it worked anyway.

He had three bedrooms, though nobody was really sure why this was necessary. He had friends and family members stay over from time to time, but the two guest rooms were usually empty.

They weren't now, though. Matthieu was staying in the larger one, and the smaller one (which admittedly wasn't much bigger than a large closet) had been transformed into his studio.

Matthieu was an artist, you see. A painter, really. He also sculpted from time to time, but painting was his niche. He was in London not only to experience the different culture, but also to gain inspiration for his art. He'd just finished up school, too. He knew what he wanted to do in life; now he just had to go about doing it.

After she met Matthieu, Roxanne somehow ended up at Louis' flat quite frequently. Before, she had barely ever gone over there by herself. But now she was dropping by on her way home from work, or coming over to watch a Quidditch game with them.

Matthieu and Louis seemed to be at their flat all the time, anyway. She might as well give them some company.

And somewhere along the line (that was, within about ten days), Matthieu went from being that boy that lived with her cousin that was really, really cute, to her boyfriend. And Roxanne was totally okay with that.

You've seen those romantic movies, right? Those old classics? Where the main characters fall madly in love and nothing else ever matters – just them?

Roxanne and Matthieu's story was kind of like that. Very similar, only they couldn't speak to each other.

They tried to learn. Oh, they tried. But you can't learn enough English or French in one week to explain how you've fallen madly in love with someone and how you love their laugh and their broken/translated stories and their dimples, oh, their dimples. You can't learn a language that quickly.

Lightning travels faster than thunder. And love travels faster than knowledge.

Sometimes they went on double dates. Louis wasn't seeing anybody, but sometimes he'd find a girl to bring along. Teddy and Victoire weren't really an option because they had the kids to look after, so that involved a babysitter, and everything just got complicated. But Dominique had an on-again-off-again boyfriend, and for those first few weeks of Roxanne and Matthieu's relationship, they were luckily on-again.

If they couldn't set up a double date, sometimes they just had Louis sit in between them and translate everything.

This became inconvenient when they discovered kissing.

And that discovery came quickly, too.

Everything came very quickly.

If they couldn't get a translator, they would stumble through the sentences that they could manage, and then they just wouldn't talk. Not talking was fine.

There were plenty of things to do that didn't involve talking.

They found another activity to do soon.

They spent a lot of time in Matthieu's studio, as Roxie admired his old work or watched him paint something new. He made the most amazing paintings, from her point of view. She felt like she could just step right into that painting he'd done of his barn back home in France. She could feel the morning dew and hear the laughter of his family.

On a side note, he had a large family, too, though in a different way. He had three brothers and two sisters. She had lots of cousins, and only one brother.

One day when Roxanne went to visit Matthieu and Louis (oh, who was she kidding? she was there to see Matthieu), he looked into her eyes for a long moment and said in broken English, "I want paint you."

Roxanne smiled largely, a blush spreading over her dark cheeks. "I... I guess so." Just to make sure that he understood, she gave a small nod.

He led her into the small extra bedroom in Louis' apartment, and gestured towards the chair in the middle of the room. He already had an easel set up facing the chair. Roxanne wondered absentmindedly how long he'd been planning this for. It was kind of cute.

Being a model for a painting was a lot harder than it looked. It wasn't like posing for a camera. You had to actually sit there for hours so that the artist could paint you. Roxanne was afraid to move even her pinky toe, convinced that the slightest movement would mess up Matthieu's painting, and she did not want to mess up Matthieu's painting. That would be horrible.

So she sat there and smiled and smiled and smiled and he smiled back at her when he looked up to examine the curve of her cheekbone, or the shape of her nose. And she studied the line of his forehead, the creases around his mouth when he smiled, and those dimples.

Roxanne swore those dimples would be the death of her.

The picture wasn't even done after all that time that she'd sat there (which, Matthieu explained later, had felt a lot longer than it actually was). That was just the outline, as Matthieu had attempted to explain. She had to leave, and he would finish it up. She wasn't to come back to Louis' flat until he sent her an owl.

In those days that she waited for Matthieu's owl, Roxanne wondered what it was that she'd done before they'd started dating. She suddenly had all this free time on her hands…

Roxanne worked with her Granddad Arthur in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. She loved it there. She didn't have the same love and curiosity for all things Muggle that her grandfather had, but she loved the work itself. She felt like she was doing something, and helping to protect people, even though she wasn't actually out there risking her life. And she actually enjoyed filing things, thank you very much.

Granddad Arthur must have noticed that something was up, all that time. Her head had been in the clouds, in a way that she hadn't experienced… well, since the early days of her crush on Scorpius, back when she'd actually thought that he might like her back, back before he and Rose had gotten together.

But it was even worse than that. It was like she couldn't think of anything but Matthieu. It was like… well, it was young love. You know what that's like, don't you?

It was especially bad when she was waiting for his owl, because she was waiting. Waiting is one of the hardest things you can do. Waiting for Matthieu's letter was almost as bad as waiting for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.

That was one of the downsides to working right alongside your grandfather, really. He was right there for everything. It wasn't as though Roxanne had told her parents about Matthieu yet – she wasn't even sure if they'd met him or not. But she wasn't ready to introduce him to any of the other family members as her boyfriend yet. It was bad enough having Dominique and Louis along for every step of the romance. She didn't need Aunt Fleur or Uncle Harry or her dad there also.

Granddad seemed to let it slide, though. A couple times he'd catch her staring off into space, and when she snapped back into to it, he'd have this knowing smile on his face, and Roxanne felt like she was going to die. But, to his credit, he never actually brought up the topic. Roxanne was extremely grateful for this.

The letter finally came: "It's done. You should come tonight to see."

(Roxanne knew he must have gotten help from Louis on the letter, but it was in Matthieu's large, curvy, French handwriting, and it made her heart swell.)

Boy, had she missed him the last few days.

Maybe deep, deep down there was some worry in Roxanne's mind about how quickly she'd fallen for this boy, but if she even registered it (if it was even there), she shoved it even farther down.

Matthieu called her Roxanne.

Most of the time, she insisted that people call her Roxie. It wasn't that she didn't like Roxanne, but it just felt too formal.

But when Matthieu said Roxanne… well, it sounded perfect.

The painting was gorgeous, of course. They decided to have a little dinner in Louis' kitchen that night, with his approval. (When they asked him, Louis added that he would stay in his bedroom, and that he would be kind enough to cast a Muffliato so they wouldn't have to listen to him gagging.)

Matthieu decided to be very dramatic about it, throwing a bed sheet over the picture for a grand unveiling, and he made her wait till after they'd eaten.

This made Roxie slightly giggly (maybe the wine had something to do with that, also) and she was pretty sure that she looked like a two-year-old, but she couldn't help it. She could not stop giggling.

This made Matthieu laugh.

Laughing was good. There were no language barriers in laughter.

There was a lot of laughing in their relationship, and the more one laughed, the more the other laughed.

Finally, Matthieu grabbed the bed sheet and pulled it off, with a nice voila motion.

And there she was. It was like looking in a mirror, only her reflection was much prettier than she actually was.

"Oh, Matthieu…" She proceeded to run through every French compliment that she'd picked up over the last few weeks; she tried to put into words that he'd understand just how much she loved it. It didn't feel like an English "I love it" would do.

Matthieu laughed at her, and then kissed her.

Sometimes they went for walks.

Usually they did this just because they wanted to get out of Louis' flat. It was very nice, but having their cousin breathing down their backs wasn't necessarily.

If they ran out of things to say on their walks, they'd start teaching each other. They'd point at everything they saw and exchange the English and French words. It seemed like such a primeval way to learn a language, but it was actually quite effective. They took the time to make sure that their pronunciation on each word was correct.

Roxanne showed Matthieu all around London and Diagon Alley. Every once and a while, they'd happen upon a beautiful scene, and Matthieu would pull her over to a bench, and pull out his sketch book. Then he'd move his pencil across the page in the most beautiful way… Roxie would have been content to just sit there and watch him draw all day. She couldn't believe the way his strokes made a picture… it was nearly magical.

This is the point of the story where you'll be expecting them to get into a huge fight, and they'll break up, and he'll go back to France, and then one day they'll run into each other on the street and fall in love all over again and realize that they never should have broken up to begin with… or something like that.

It happens in every great love story, just when things are going great, but usually before they have gotten too far. Every story does it a little bit differently – sometimes it takes them years to get back together, sometimes less than a day – sometimes there are selfless motives behind the break-up, and sometimes someone just made a big fat mistake – sometimes it happens when they're about to get married.

But the truth is there was no big dramatic fight scene in Roxanne and Matthieu's love story. Sure, they fought a lot. There were a few times when Matthieu would forget about dates because he'd gotten so involved in his painting, or when Roxanne would freak out over little details and yell at him in a language that he was still striving to exist.

And the language problem didn't disappear. It shrunk as time went on and they learned more, but there were nights that Roxanne couldn't fall asleep, wondering if they were crazy for even attempting this. Communication is such a key part of a relationship, and if they didn't have that, what did they have? If he couldn't even understand that she wanted him to buy milk, not meat, how could they deal with serious things? If she couldn't explain why she'd gotten held up at work, how would he ever be able to trust her?

They worked through it though, and that was really what let their relationship survive. They worked through it together. And they kept learning more words, and they kept making more promises, and they kept trying really, really hard to keep them.

It was never perfect – of course it never was. Nothing is perfect.

They were going to get as damn close as they could though.

On September 1st, there was a party at the Burrow. There were no Weasleys going to Hogwarts that year, and there wouldn't be for five more years, but Grandma Molly had decided to keep the tradition and have a party anyway. They'd been doing it for years, since before Roxanne herself had even started Hogwarts, and it didn't seem like they would ever stop.

Roxanne brought Matthieu as a date – they were allowed to do that. He probably would have been invited anyway, since he was staying at Louis' house and was technically family, but she was ready to announce to her family that they were together.

Scorpius was the first to come up to her once she'd gotten there. "There you are, Rox. I sent you an owl a week and a half ago. A week and a half. Where have you been? Living under a rock?"

She laughed and gave him a hug. "I'm sorry, Scorp. I've been really busy. Plus, I figured I'd let you two room to have a bit of a honeymoon," Roxie said as Rose walked over and joined them. The two girls exchanged hugs, too.

"Please, the honeymoon phase is completely over," Rose stage-whispered.

"Don't listen to her, it's not," Scorpius said.

"Yes, it is."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"Gotcha."

Roxanne laughed. "Gotta admit, you guys sound a bit like Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron."

The pair exchanged looks. "Ew," they said at the same time.

Rose laughed and turned back to Roxie. "I heard you were seeing someone though?"

Roxanne smiled. "I am, actually." She looked around for her boyfriend, but he seemed to have disappeared already. "I don't know where he's gotten to, but he's here somewhere… you've probably met him already. Louis' cousin Matthieu?"

"Oh, yeah, he was at the wedding," Rose said. Scorpius nodded, remembering. "He seemed really nice."

"He is," Roxie confirmed.

"Oh, there's Al! He's been hiding from me too," Scorpius said, walking after his friend. "ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "I swear, he's a two-year-old."

"He always has been, hasn't he?" Roxie said.

"Yeah, I knew what I was getting myself into." Rose smiled fondly. "But, hey, if you want to talk, just send me an owl or something. Seriously, I'm bored."

"Ah, yes, being newly married, moving up in the Law Enforcement Department… sounds very boring," Roxanne teased.

The other girl smiled. "You'd be surprised." She glanced at her husband, who now had her cousin in a headlock. "Oh, Merlin. I swear I'm going to murder one of them someday! They honestly haven't grown up at all. I better go break it up before they break one of Grandmum's things." Rose touched Roxie's shoulder as she left.

Roxie smiled as she watched them, reflecting. Because something important had just happened. Scorpius Malfoy had just hugged her, and she'd felt nothing. Nothing.

She was finally over him? She hated to admit it, but she'd been waiting for this moment. As horrible as it sounded, this really was the moment when she was sure that she was over Scorpius – not when she got with Matthieu, or any moment with him.

Still, it was a huge relief.

In her reflective state, Roxanne somehow wandered to the kitchen, where she found her mother and a few of her aunts and… Oh, Merlin. Matthieu was helping them cook. He was the only male in the room.

Roxanne watched, amused, for a few moments from the corner of the room. He was stirring the soup and talking to her mother about his farm back home in France.

Finally, Aunt Fleur insisted that she would take over the soup. Matthieu looked for another job to help with for a moment, but he gave up. Then he saw Roxie and walked over to her.

"I see you've met my mother," Roxanne said.

Her mum perked up at Roxanne's voice, and saw the pair facing each other, and asked, "Oh, do you two know each other?"

Matthieu laughed. "You could say that," he told her. Roxanne had taught him that phrase the week before.

"Actually, Matthieu and I have been dating for…" Roxie trailed off as she realized that she couldn't actually remember how long they had been dating before. She felt her cheeks pink, especially as all the females in the room glanced up from their food and appraised the couple with knowledge and interest in their eyes.

"Girls are supposed to remember, yes?" Matthieu teased, wrapping an arm around her. "Two months and one…"

"Week?" Roxanne supplied.

"Week," Matthieu repeated.

Roxanne smiled. "Well, thank you, smarty-pants."

Matthieu's eyes narrowed. He hadn't learned that one yet, and it's not really a phrase that makes sense. But he didn't get to question it, because Roxanne's mother said, "Well, Matthieu, you did not tell me that part."

"I did not know that part either," Aunt Fleur said, a little bit upset.

"So Louis has kept the secret," Roxanne said with a laugh, hugging Matthieu closer to her side.

The women all exchanged glances. Roxanne seemed so much happier than she'd been in a long time. She was in love, so of course she was happier.

At that moment, little Remus burst into the room, screaming, "Grandma!" and the attention turned from Matthieu and Roxanne to Teddy and Victoire's children. They were much cuter, anyway.

Roxanne spent the rest of the night talking to her relatives, especially the ones she didn't get to see very often. She played with the children and spent time with her grandmother.

And that was really the point of these parties, Roxanne realized. It was that most of the time they were go-go-go, but on September 1st, they could spend a few hours together.

If you didn't believe me about them having fights… there was this one time when they were arguing over which one of them had broken Louis' pot. He'd presented the issue about an hour before, but had snuck out a good time before, leaving them to bicker. He was a bit scared, if he was being honest.

The fight escalated to the point where Roxanne was yelling, "And to think that I thought I loved you!" They both froze, their faces masks. "Wait, I don't mean that. I really didn't mean that. I… I still do think that I love you."

Matthieu's face was very tight, like, he couldn't afford to let a single emotion seep out. Finally he said, "You think?" with a smirk.

Roxanne smacked him lightly.

"I love you," Matthieu told her softly, leaning in and placing a kiss on her cheek. Then he leaned back and smiled at her, studying her face as though he'd forgotten it.

"That's all I get?" she demanded. She leaned back in, pretty much climbing on top of him, and kissed him right on the lips.

Louis arrived home from some errands half an hour later and found them cuddling on the couch, nearly asleep. But rather than being disgusted as he'd previously been, a smile spread over his face. Because, if you forced an admission out of him, you'd find that he really was happy that they were together.

Matthieu's stay in London got extended even farther, and before they knew it, it was autumn, and soon winter. Then he was moving into her apartment, a change which Louis took with an eyebrow wiggle and a bit of relief – he was getting tired of his flat being the "cave for the lover-birds".

They were picking up each other's language with increasing speed. They could soon converse in both languages quite fluidly. But they still chose to speak in that strange mix that even Louis could barely follow. It was like they'd pick certain words that would only be in English and other words that would only be in French.

Every time Roxanne expressed doubts over how long he had stayed in London, he hushed her. He claimed that it didn't matter – it wasn't as though he had any job waiting for him back in France.

His was actually doing pretty well with his paintings. He'd made some money off of them, and he'd gotten some press.

So Matthieu told her not to worry – he was doing better here.

Plus they were together.

She asked him to marry her just before Easter. She'd gotten sick of waiting for him to ask, so she decided to do it herself. This got her some major brownie points from her female cousins.

He said yes, in every language he knew, some of which didn't even involve words.

This story ends with a girl, just like it began with.

A girl who wore a white gown one early winter morning.

A girl who was literally surrounded by redheaded cousins, but a girl who didn't have to make any sacrifices that day. For once she could be in the spotlight.

A girl who was marrying the man of her dreams.

A girl who never thought she'd make it to this point.

But here she was.

If Roxanne had any doubts on the morning of her wedding, they all vanished when she arrived at the base of the aisle and saw him standing at the end – a smirk on his face like he knew the funniest joke in the world, his calculating eyes like he was capturing her image in his mind, and those dimples – oh, those dimples.

Thanks for reading :) Please review?

~writergal24