The Beautiful Life of a Veela

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

“Love? Is that you?” Bill had heard a clumsy thud that echoed throughout the apartment, “I’ll be out in a minute!” He called out through the roaring of the shower head.

He hastened his movements in the shower, eager to finish up so he could see his fiancé. Under normal circumstances, he might’ve stroked one out while he was safely in the privacy of the shower. But, he didn’t want to tire himself out when he was expected to spend the rest of the evening with Fleur. The last thing he wanted was to run on empty when the evening was theirs to take advantage of. Besides, she had been gracious enough to allow him and his friend the apartment so they could watch the quidditch match, and now he was ready to retire from the sport watching and spend the evening with his girlfriend. He didn’t want to disappoint.

“You know… I’ve been thinking about you all day… we really don’t spend much time apart, you and me, but, I really missed you. I was actually happy to send him off …” he spoke as he wandered into hallway, having only then noticed Fleur standing in the hallway. Her body was faced away from him, her head tilted and her fists clenched with her attention on his boots. They had been sprawled out on the floor in a much different position than he had originally left them, but, honestly not by much, “Ohh! I’m sorry, Love… I know, I know, I forgot to put them away. Forgive me…” he placed his hand affectionately against the side of her waist and pressed a quick peck to her cheek before he reached for the pair of boots, still using one of his hands to keep together the towel knot against his waist, “Lemme get some clothes on and then we can have dinner…”

He returned to their rather small bedroom with his boots in his hand, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but I picked up your favorite wine and some supper. I figured we could get cozy on the sofa…” he allowed his words to trail off as he tossed his boots into the closet and reached for his flannel pajama bottoms at the bottom of the drawer; a t-shirt that he hadn’t worn in months caught his eye, “It looks like I’ll get to wear my Weird Sisters t-shirt for the first time in over a year…” he joked as he pulled it on over his head, stretching his arms through the sleeves and smoothing it down around his waist, “If you want it back, you’ll have to rip it off me,” he joked, “Love?” He suddenly grew curious with her silence and, frankly, her lack of affection. He hadn’t seen her in hours and, upon their reunion, she kept her self at a suspiciously long distance given the fact that he had been clad in nothing more than a towel.

“Please don’t be mad at me about the boots. You know I’m still learning… I promise, I’ll have kicked this habit by the time we get married. No more boots in the hallway…”

This new body of hers tensed as the blood traitor laid his filthy hands against her waist, her skin crawled as his lips grazed against her cheek. The body that was pushed up against hers had been with a half breed, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been with muggles, mudbloods and beasts. The idea of getting close and intimate with this Weasley boy made her stomach squirm but it was something she had to do if they wanted to put down the order.

 She wasn’t paying attention to the wizard who was babbling away, talking to himself in the other room. Her eyes searched her surroundings taking a mental picture of the small boxy flat, planning an exit route if it came to that. Surveying the items on the bookshelf, she picked up one of the photo frames that displayed a family of four, she recognised the blonde in the middle as the half-breed shed locked up in her sisters cellar, but the other three she was with were strangers, strangers that she assumed by their similar features were her family. She gravitated towards the window that looked down on the street below that was peppered with individuals, couples and families, the stores that lined the street would welcome the by-passers every now and then. Her eyes searched the street, it didn't take too long before they fell on a man leaning against the wall, a muggle paper shielding his face. And a little further down the street a taller man stood with his back toward her stroking the wall with a paint brush, every now and then he’d glance over his shoulder to look up at the apartment she was standing in. Giving the pair a nod she turned her back on the outside world as the voice shifted closer.

 I will set them on fire if I see them again, It was on the tip of Bellatrix’s lips, everything in her body had urged her to pull out her wand and light the boots with a flame and watch as they turned to a pile of ash in the middle of the living room. But she had to force herself to stay in character. In that moment she wasn’t herself, she was a young French girl who wasn’t capable of hurting a lacewing fly. “Please. I really don’t want to break my neck.” She spoke for the first time, feigning a French accent. “..you won’t ‘ave anyone to marry.” Her tone harsher than it should have been. This was truer than she was letting on. She knew what he didn’t, his little beast of a fiancé was locked up back at Malfoy Manor with no plan of returning her, and there would be no sight of a wedding after she was done with the pair.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Bill wasn’t necessarily concerned about Fleur at the moment. She was smart and resourceful. She could take care of herself. She was probably buying more time for herself, presumably because she figured that the game would run longer than anticipated and she didn’t want to stumble back in during the heat of it.

In the meantime, Bill made the executive decision to run out for a moment and get the two of them some dinner. Fleur had made no mentioned that she was going to visit the grocery store, nor had they discussed what was on the menu for dinner that night. They made a regular habit of sharing the responsibilities of mealtime in their togetherness, and tonight just so happened to be Bill’s night. Rather than wait for Fleur to get back, he decided to have dinner prepared for her arrival. He wound up standing in the cue behind several muggles, tapping his foot impatiently against the floor. He wanted to beat Fleur back to the flat before she would jump to the conclusion that he and his friend decided to take their post-game celebrations to a pub.

When he returned ten minutes later, he was still surprised by her tardiness. The flat had remained untouched and appeared just as he had left it: there was no Fleur in sight. Still, however, he shrugged it off and carried the take away order into the kitchen as well as the bottle of wine that he had picked up along the way. He had kicked his boots off and left them inconsiderately in the middle of the archway that separated the kitchen/dining area from the living room (he was still a husband-in-training so little slip ups like this were expected).

* MALFOY MANOR •

“How do I look?” Bellatrix placed her hands on her hips and mockingly twirled in place, awkwardly landing on her foot which caused her to wobble. She was not delicate and coordinated the way Fleur was. She was showing off Fleur’s attire, as well as the face that would become her identity for the next several hours. Despite sharing Fleur’s silvery blonde locks, her green eyes, her soft, pale-skin, and her smile, there was something unsettling and very sinister about her demeanor. Despite the dramatic physical change, Bellatrix’s essence was still the most prominent feature about this ‘new’ person. If it were even possible, it even made her Veela charm appear as a recessive gene, “Am I half-breed enough for that muggle lover?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Rudolphus smirked and escorted his wife downstairs. She took his arm and exaggerated the swinging of her hips, flailing her available arm in the air like an erratic and untrained ballerina. She was having her fun now, but, in front of Bill, she needed to be more subtle in her performance.

“I hope he puts up a fight. He’ll be fun to play with. Maybe I’ll spare him so I can bring him back here and we can play with him and his half-breed,” she fantasized.

“Don’t take too long. The longer you’re with him, the more chances the Order will have to intervene. We’re not well equipped for this fight yet,” he reminded her.

“Tell the half-breed I’ll bring her muggle lover’s corpse back to her. I love the screams of anguish,” she peppered Rudolphus’s lips with a light kiss, tracing her nail against his chin before departing Malfoy Manor.

• GREENWICH, LONDON •

Bellatrix strode confidently towards the home of her victims disguised as the blonde Veela that occupied one of the flats above the street front stores. The flat she had been watching for some time now was closer than ever. The past weeks were spent watching as the red haired blood traitor and his half breed came and went, their lives went on oblivious to a pair of dark eyes and a mop of curly back hair examining their lives, how they ticked, where they went. It would have been so simple to pounce then and there on their oblivion but she was holding out for bigger and better plan. A plan that was now in action, the half breed was out of the way giving her a perfect opportunity to seduce information from the weak pureblood Weasley. She wanted more than the pair dead, she needed information for the Dark Lord.

She pulled out a wand from her coat pocket, it felt foreign an unwanted in her hand as she flicked it in the air, a click of the door followed. “You’re making it too easy for me” she cackled under her breath her confidence only growing. They were just asking to be broken into.

With wide eyes she scoped out the flat’s interior, up until now she had only seen the outside. With a clatter and bang she made her presence know, the impersonator unlike the graceful Veela found herself on her hands and knees. “Filthy blood traitor, leaving his repulsive shoes in the doorway” she cursed as she found her way to her feet again and started to reach for her wand her anger beginning to boil within her.

• MALFOY MANOR •

Fleur was overflowing with panic, not for herself locked up beneath the ground in the cold and damp dungeon with Death Eaters with all the power. But Bill out there where she couldn't get to him to protect him or warn him, oblivious to the mad woman that was coming for him. All of her years at Beauxbatons training to become a skillful witch she couldn’t break past the gate that was keeping her captive. All those lessons, those long nights studying and even becoming powerful enough to compete in the triwizard tournament and develop the ability to perform wandless magic, nothing was going to help her now. “Bombarda Maxima” Fleur spoke with power stretching her hand out in front of her, longing for a reaction, hopeful that what would follow would be an explosion that would rip through the metal bars but like the last ten attempts there was nothing but the echo of her voice.

“Give up, you’re not getting out of there, it’s completely escape proof” a voice wafted down the staircase above.    

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

“We’ll interrogate her first. Might as well use her to our advantage in every way possible,” declared Bellatrix.

“You stay here and we’ll interrogate her. Save your energy for the next plan, if it comes to that…” spoke Antonin Dolohov as he followed behind the snatchers when they escorted Fleur to the dungeons.

The girl was tougher than initially believed, and determined that Plan B was necessary because the Dark Lord wasn’t quite ready to have her killed when she could be broken and put to good use.

“If you’re exposed, Bella, we can’t help you,” Rudolphus reminded her as the two snatchers ascended the stairs with Fleur’s clothes in their arms.

“I won’t need help.”

“We don’t know much about this Bill Weasley.”

“He’s a mudblood and half-breed lover, what else do we need to know?”

“Severus says that he’s a curse-breaker.”

“He’s a joke. The whole lot of them are,” she turned and watched the two snatchers lower Fleur’s garments across one of the chairs.

“When do we get paid?”

“You’ll be rewarded in due time. When the Dark Lord takes control.”

“Wait a minute, lady… We were promised payment after we delivered the pretty one. We demand com—“ before he had a chance to finish his sentence, Bellatrix had turned sharply on her heel and bewitched her wand into a black whip, lassoing one of the snatchers around his neck and pulling him roughly to his knees, “You will leave without your payment,” she spoke through gritted teeth before releasing him, “Go! Leave us!” The two snatchers made a mad dash through the dining area and out the front.

She reached for Fleur’s garments and draped them over her arm, “Have Wormtail bring the polyjuice potion upstairs,” she demanded as she walked towards the grand staircase. Meanwhile, Rudolphus marched across the dining room and towards the kitchens, “Wormtail! Is it ready?”

“Just about, Sir, I just need a strand of the half-breed’s hair…”

Wordlessly, Rudolphus left the kitchen and made his way down the steps into the dungeon where Fleur was being kept. Buried in the shadows, he could hear the young half-breed’s tears; strangled gasps heaving as he approached her. He was silent as he reached for her, placing his hand aggressively against the back of her head and weaving his fingers harshly through her blonde locks. With a grunt, he tugged her hair back, causing her head to pop back with her neck arched. Her creamy white, sweat-drenched neck glistening in the light, “Maybe we’ll keep you around… after Bella gets what she wants and slaughters your half-breed lover, you’d be the perfect tool for us. Your charm, your beauty…” with his dirty free hand, he reached forward and lightly grazed his fingers against her barely clothed breast, “… no one can resist you, not even the most loyal of purebloods… we can unlock your full potential… then maybe you’d have a place in the Dark Lord’s world…” even though Rodulphus was a fiercely loyal blood purist, he could feel the effects of this part-Veela witch making his loins quiver. He wouldn’t dare indulge himself with Bellatrix upstairs. Maybe afterwards…

He ran his fingers aggressively through her hair, so much so that when he released her and pulled his arm back, several hairs had gotten caught in the spaces between his fingers. That would do. And again, he left her to rot in her cell so he could deliver the strands to Wormtail.

Fleur didn't realise she had company until she felt a tug at her hair. She couldn't hear the footsteps over her distressed sobs. Her heart felt as though it was going to jump out on her chest as all of a sudden she was joined by a frightful presence. She whimpered, her neck arching back to relieve the tightness against her scalp. Automatically her hand reached backwards landing aggressively against the larger rougher hand beneath in an attempt to free herself from his hold. “Lache tes mains" She curled her fingers around so her nails pierced into his skin. She could not see who had her captured her by the hair, she recognised the voice that followed, the voice did not sooth the fear boiling inside it only had her heart pick up speed, was this the beginning of round two?

 As the realisation that Bill's life was in danger dawned on her she began to feel paralysed like an anaesthetic pumping through her veins, numbing her, leaving her drowning in a sea of dread as she remained trapped unable to stop it from happening. “Non! Laisser" She started in her native tongue. "Le-Leave Bill alone” her voice rang with power despite the fear consuming her. She did not realise the fear could get any worse until now. When they mentioned the love of her life, her best friend, her soul mate she felt her blood boil, a hate she had never felt before. “I will do anyzing just leave 'im alone, do not 'urt 'im.” She attempted to bargain. She would do anything to keep her beloved from this fate. "I will stop fighting, I will do whatever you or Voldermort wants just stay away from him." She was willing to do anything to save Bill, she was willing to sacrifice herself. The idea that she was promising herself to the will of the dark lord was terrifying, but in that moment she was brave. The image of her beloved safe and sound made her brave.

This was a colossal turn around from Fleur since her capture...

                     ————— Flashback ——————

An invisible rope held Fleur inches off the ground. Her feet extended, a straight line from her slim legs line continued all the way to her toes, stretching, grazing against the floor searching for some relief, like a ballerina on pointe. But her face alluded to something else. Her face red, eyes bulging, tears poring over, down her cheeks, as she clutched at the air around her throat. "I am not telling you anyzing.” she choked back. 

"Suit yourself."  The tall thin man let his wand drop to his side sending her body plummeting onto the cold hard floor. "ughh" She winced, gasping for breath, drinking in the damp musty air. 

 "Crucio" The deep voice bellowed from another direction, a red light darted through the darkness towards the limp figure on the floor. A blood curdling scream echoed through the dungeon and wafted through the manor. The young woman writhed on the ground her soft bare skin grazing against the concrete beneath her blood breaking past her skin, but the pain was hidden beneath the one thousand white-hot knives boring deep into her body. "Stop please" She begged. "Tell us what you and your blood traitor and filthy blooded companions are planning and then we stop"

"NO" She yelled but as that one word left her lips the unbearable pain ripped though her bones. Fleur had never felt such pain, it was as if her skin was on fire, her skin was being torn from her body, a hundred nails were being hammered into her skull. Loud wales escaped her lips as she pleaded for mercy for what felt like hours.

All of a sudden it went quiet, the pain subsided, had they given up? 

That was too good to be true. A new figure appeared above her, a long, pale twisted face inched towards her, his greasy hair flopped against her forehead. "Hey Beautiful." She could feel his hot thick breath against her cheek, she could taste his breath, like 3 year old milk and decaying meat. As the pungent taste hit the back of her throat, a grimace rolled across her angelic features. She could feel her stomach twist and turn upside down as her breakfast threatened to make its way back up. "You don't have to be scared, you can trust me, you just need to tell me what they are planning and we will let you go, no one needs to know, it’s just between you and me." he whispered in her ear dragging a finger down the side of her neck "Brûle en l’enfer" She spat gaining some strength in her arms thrusting her fingers into his eye sockets. He bellowed in response grabbing her by the hair and slamming her head against the concrete propelling her into blackness.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Bill was rubbish when it came to household charms, so much of the tidying up was done by hand. But, he managed to get the flat presentable for inspection when Fleur returned home. This was the part in their engagement that had made the transition into married life. They were no longer in the position to have to feign interest in each other’s hobbies in order to impress one another. They were now at a stage where they respected each other enough and were comfortable enough to leave each other be. Bill didn’t mind indulging in Fleur’s interests every so often. He’s allowed her to tug him along to the ballet, and into town for a shopping trip, but, otherwise, he could just as well stay home and let Fleur enjoy herself with someone else who would be more pleasant company on such occasions. He called her rubbish when she feigned a love for quidditch through the first match he invited her to. She may have been up to speed on the ins and outs of the game, and could ace a quiz that involved naming the players of each team as well as their positions and current stats… But, the enthusiasm wasn’t there. It didn’t bother him, though. If she had as strong an interest in the game as he, she would literally have been the perfect woman for him. Knowing that she wasn’t was a bit of a relief. Part of what was so nice about his relationship with Fleur was how much they were like polar opposites. If he wanted a mirror of himself, he would’ve married one.

When he finished wiping down the kitchen counter with a clean rag, he glanced up at the clock and noticed the hour. Fleur was running late by 20 minutes. She hadn’t specified what she was doing, or, more than likely, she had and he just wasn’t paying attention because of the game. Still, that was unusual. She was always so critical of time and was punctual, which is why Bill being late so frequently early on was not simply an irritant, but a gross flaw in one’s personality.

“We could really use one of those family clocks that Mum has…” he spoke to himself, “Maybe I’ll put it in her ear to give us one for a wedding present…”

————— •Malfoy Manor• ——————

“Hahahaha! I got her! I got the half-breed!” A cackling voice echoed throughout the cold and dark manor.

“Oi! Give us a little credit, why don’t ya? After all, we’re the ones who grabbed her…”

“On MY authority. Had it not been for me you fools would still be chasing after that werewolf and his pink-haired daughter.”

“If we were going to snatch a member of the Order, why her? Why not that mudblood lover Weasley of hers?”

“She’s not an Order member. Severus said so! She’s just—collateral damage, aren’t you, Sweetie?” Bellatrix feigned sympathy as she hunched over and pursed her lips at Fleur. She was still being gripped tightly between two snatchers, “Besides, this will be much more fun… take her into the dungeons, strip her of everything she’s wearing! And…” Bellatrix glided over to Fleur and tightly grabbed hold of her left wrist. She managed to twist her fingers open before roughly yanking her engagement ring off her finger, “… I’ll start with this…” she smiled devilishly and delicately slid the ring onto her own finger. She outstretched her arm to get a look at the ring from afar, “Well, he’s cheaper than you, Rodolphus.”

After the snatchers had dragged Fleur down into the dungeons beneath the dining room, they had begun to savagely rip at Fleur’s clothes. They were by no means gentle as they yanked buttons from their slips and belts from their loops. When they had her down to her bra and panties, they stopped, “Oohhh, yes… it’s a shame that a half-breed is this beautiful…” he roughly dragged his hands along her still clothed breasts, all the way down the sides of her body and to her hips, “Otherwise you’d make pretty pure-blood babies… maybe we’ll pay you a visit later…” he fantasized aloud.

“C’mon, c’mon! Hurry up!” when she was entirely naked, the snatchers scooped up her clothes and carried them up the stairs. Wormtail fastened the cell door behind them, leaving Fleur alone in the cold dungeon.

The darkness exploded into light, Fleur’s eyes wide as she attempted to drink in her surroundings and gather a sense of her location. She felt small in the grand room, the ceilings rose almost to the sky, the chandeliers lighting the cold room, every hair on her body stood on end as a room full of eyes bore into her. The faces on the walls were haunting but they were harmless compared to the owner of the cackling laugh before her. She had yet to see this infamous witch in person, only in the newspapers and the fear-filled tales she had heard. She more terrifying than she had imagined, the evil gleam in her eyes had her heart hammering in her throat.

She struggled against the two tall rough looking men either side of her. “Let me go” Fleur had little strength compared to the her kidnappers, but it didn’t stop her, she writhed in their strong grip in a desperate attempt to free herself, to release herself from the tight throbbing hold that would leave a mark against her delicate skin.

 “Give eet back.” Fleur ordered. “Take anyzing yous want but not zat” She continued as her now naked left hand fought to reach out for the thief. That ring had never left her finger since Bill had slipped it on all those months ago, the ring that symbolised Bill’s love and promise to her. Her mind was pulled back to her fiancé back at home, had he realised she hadn’t come home yet? Was he out searching for her? Would he even notice she was missing, that she hadn’t come home yet? Was the quidditch still capturing his complete attention, no room for any other thoughts. Her heart sunk at that though, Bill cheering at the witches and wizards flying on their brooms, all his attention focused on the game, she was lost,  forgotten as she lived her last moments.  

The snatchers drag her down; she wasn't making it easy for them as she used all her energy to pull the other way, thrashing her arms as they forced her forward. "You are 'urting me, let me go" She yelled ramming her foot into one of the snatchers legs with all her force. But it was no use their grip around her arms just became tighter.

As they descended the staircase they were carrying her as she refused to walk, her foot faltered, catching on one of the last few steps down into the dark cellar below, leaving one of her shoes and a layer of skin behind. The only light illuminating from the wand of a new face, "Help me please" she whimpered as she caught sight of a new man. "Please do not let zem do zis" She pleaded before her body was thrown onto the cold damp concrete floor. She tried to pick herself up, her body tender from the fall. As she found her feet she was met with the two men again. There was something new in their eyes, an excitement as their dirty hands reached for her. Her breath became heavy and panicked as she crawled backwards from her captors. Her heart dropped as her back collided with the concrete wall, there was nowhere to go. She was trapped, alone like a caged lamb with two hungry lions. A warmth spread across her face followed by a flush of scarlet shame as her skin was exposed. "Stop"  She ordered again she attempted to fight against these men, but she was not strong enough, and that wasn't going to change the more times she tried. There was two of them and just one of her, she was powerless, she was smaller, weaker and had nothing but her body to fight with. Her arms and legs, her voice, everything was useless. And as the cotton was being tugged off her body humiliation began to fill in every crevice of her body. Her eyes began to water as she was held down firmly; her wrists bound as a set of grimy fingers pushed the material of her pants down her trembling legs.  "Do Not Touch Me!" She yelled feeling a sick feeling bubbling at the pit of her stomach as his hands left a thick film of grime down the side of her body.

Exposed, vulnerable and degraded they turned their backs on her. Relief washed over her that they were leaving but fear pushed back as the low concrete ceilings and darkness started to cave in.

“Let me out" She cried banging on the cell door, "Someone 'elp me" With no answer, the footsteps faded, she felt all hope drain from her body. Sinking onto the floor, bringing her bare legs up to her chest she wrapped her arms around her knees, tears streamed down her cheeks, sobs echoing through the darkness.

[sweetgingerpie]

Bill & Fleur | AU #1

“Go! Go! Go!”

“C’mon, Griffiths!”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Aaaand Glynnis Griffiths catches the snitch! Propelling the Holyhead Harpies past the Heidelberg Harriers and into the finals next week! The final score: Harriers 160 and Harpies 180. We’ll follow up with Team Captain Gwenog Jones on the pitch momentarily, ladies and gentlemen. Here’s a word from our sponsor Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. If you have an occasion, she’s got the robes for you—“

“What a good game. The Holyhead Harpies haven’t played that well in years.” spoke Oliver, a friend of Bill’s who had a stop off in town on his way home for the holidays.

“How long is your holiday? Maybe we can meet up for the finals next week,” asked Bill as he pulled his wand from the table in front of them, charming their empty glasses to soar across the living room and into the sink in the kitchen.

“‘Til Monday. Hold on… don’t you have a girlfriend? A fiancé? What does she think about you going to the finals with me and not her?”

“Fleur’s not interested in Quidditch. She pretended to take an interest for a time, but, she couldn’t keep up with me… speaking of which, you’d better get going. She’ll be back any minute and if she sees our mess I won’t live long enough to see the finals.”

“A’right, mate. I’ll keep in touch,” and at that, the two parted ways and Bill was busy cleaning up the living room the moment the door closed. He used his hands to brush crumbs off the sofa and onto the floor where they evaporated into thin air. His only job on his days off was to not make a mess of their flat, as Fleur specified the day they moved in together. It was only on days when she was working and he was not that he made the executive decision to invite a friend over. However, he needed to clean up the evidence before Fleur got home.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

The alcohol was chilling in the ice box and the snacks were in plenty supply, excitement lingered in the small London flat, evidence that game day had arrived. Men and woman were to jump on their brooms and fight for a position in the British Quidditch final. The excitement was in full supply however just from one of the two occupants, but enough for the both of them. Fleur despite previous belief did not find the same excitement in Quidditch as her fiancé. Fleur had attempted, had forced herself to take an interest in a sport Bill, the wizard she was developing feelings for enjoyed. And instead of allowing the game to submerge her in an invisibility cloak and have her forgotten she was going out to find something to interest her mind.

So with a drawn out kiss, Fleur stepped over the threshold and out of sight.

As fleur glided down the empty street she could hear footsteps behind her, surely it was just one of the residents from the hundreds of homes in this area but as she turned her head to look back, the street was deserted. Her pace quickened as she found nobody in sight, feeling completely alone her mind began to fill with fear. Her heart began to beat faster against her ribs, she could see the door up to their appartment just down the way, she was so close to returning safely home to Bill she felt a vice grip grab her and pull her into a spiral of darkness.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Arabian Nights

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Bill knew that every time he made reference to her past, he was digging up bad memories that she had spent years trying to bury, only to have them unearthed with a single word. As much as Bill wanted to know the identity of this man, to get revenge and justice for his wife, he knew that he need to forget about him. The thought of vengeance was much sweeter than the reality of the result. It wouldn’t undo what had been done to Fleur, and it wouldn’t make Bill feel any less guilty about his ignorance over the past few years. She was right. They needed to move on; move past what had happened to her and just continue to create a happy life together. That was the best revenge: to live a long, happy life in spite of this man and his heinous crime. Fleur had already made it abundantly clear what she wanted from him: his love. Not this bitter anger that had been brewing in the pit of his stomach since she told him about her rape. He owed Fleur that, and much more, “This is the last time I will make reference to your past. I will not talk about it again, I promise. I won’t ask about him; I will not ask you for his name, or where he is. I don’t want this man to be a phantom in our lives. He’s dead and buried as far as I’m concerned,” It was his sincerest hope that the divulging of this secret for the first time was going to provide Fleur with a greater sense of closure that merely time hadn’t afforded to her.

He pursed his lips and returned her kiss, reaching up with one of his hands so he could cup his fingers over Fleur’s as it rested against his cheek. His mouth glided over hers, suckling against her bottom lip as they parted, “You don’t need to explain. You don’t need words… I see it, and I can feel it,” Bill felt as if he was back online now after having sat in the dark for so long. He had long since forgotten how to read Fleur’s expressions and her overall body language. Now, he was fully aware and could read her like a book; her eyes twitching as they held each other’s gaze.

Fleur wasn’t the one who needed to convince Bill that she loved him. It was clear from the start; plain as day. It was Bill who had to run the offensive and proactively remind Fleur of his feelings for her. He’s put her love to the test time and time again; dumped one bucket of water after another onto this never-ending fire that was burning inside her heart. Fleur already proved her love; first by agreeing to marry him; second by standing up to his mother when she suggested that she would leave him following his attack; third by fighting alongside him during the battle at the school; and fourth, by giving him a family and two little girls to love for the rest of his life. Now, it was his turn.

As they were getting closer in their little booth, a waitress had approached their table from behind and greeted them with a thick, albeit out of place, American accent, “Hello, could I get you a—oh, hello, Bill. I didn’t recognize you so far from your usual seat at the bar… and wearing a tie? Has the world gone mad? It must be a special night…” she then turned her gaze to Fleur who was practically growing out of his hip because of how close they were sitting together, “And you must be Fleur? The wife? Bill spoke of you all the time. Some of the stories he’d tell would make other patrons lean in and become green with envy… especially the men. I had been bugging him to bring you along someday and it seems he finally took my advice…” she playfully nudged Bill’s shoulder with her hand, “Yes, Shelby, it was because of your badgering I finally decided to bring her around,” he rolled his eyes playfully. “Can I get you both something to drink?”

“I’ll just have a water.”

And that spade he was using to dig up her past was sharp and piercing, painful wasn't enough to describe the hurt deep down inside just his words were scrapping at. She wanted to forget that agony, forget this part of her life and instead drown herself in the happiness and delight Bill and their daughters had made bloom in her heart, it overrode any terrible feeling, any bad thought  that threatened to break her. Her abuser already had far too much power in her life, he had already done too much damage. Fleur fought to keep him out, stop him messing up all the progress she had made. She had battled to leave that experience behind her and find happiness and love where it looked hopeless and bleak. Her road had never been easy, she had struggled against the wounds he had left, they threatened to split open again when she started to get close to men including Bill. But it was Bills love, his patience, his kindness which sewed them back up. They weren’t perfect and Bill had left his own frayed edges and rips in her heart. At only 25 her heart looked like a patchwork quilt from the mistreatment it had undergone, but love and joy was not lacking in this beat up heart of hers.

 "I want to forget eet Bill, eet ‘u-urts too much..I cannot.” A look of distress in her eyes. “I want eet to be just us, when you are not being an idiot you make me ze ‘appiest, I want to be ‘appy wiz you.”

Fleur stared into Bill's familar and comforting face she had forgotten about everyone around them, the music had faded into the background as she soaked in Bill's deep voice. Fleur flinched as a loud confident voice startled her from the little bubble she and Bill had created in that booth. She tore her gaze from her husband to look up at this babbling stranger .

“What ‘ave you been saying about me William?” She slanted her eyes as she moved her head to glare at her husband.

When she offered drinks Fleur pulled herself from the tangle of limbs they had become picking up the menu that had gone unnoticed on the table in front of them. It was clearly not as interesting as each other were in that moment. Her eyes scanned down the list of drinks on offer. “I will have….Peach Melba Cooler and Bill will ‘ave a whiskey” She spoke before letting the menu rest on the table again.  

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Arabian Nights

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

“Maybe if you didn’t wear a skirt every time you sat down to give me lessons then I wouldn’t get so distracted so easily,” he joked. Bill’s inability to keep his hands to himself was his problem. Those few occasions when she attempted to seriously teach him French had always been in vain. He just didn’t have a foot in with the language the way that Fleur had with English. He easily learned Arabic while he was living in Egypt, but, then again, he didn’t have an attractive woman for a teacher, but, instead a middle-aged man who traded him magical English herbs for an Arabic dictionary, “I promise, one day you’ll be able to get through to me. In the meantime, I suppose I’ll just have to settle for guessing,” that wasn’t so bad, especially when it came to pillow talk. Whispering sweet French nothings in his ear after an evening of passion was a turn on that he never knew he had. And part of the thrill was not knowing what it was she was whispering to him. Not to mention if he became fluent, then he would miss her broken English.

“You’re right, I’m sorry…” it bothered him to hear that he had treated her no differently than most men did. That he was taking control in areas of their marriage that should be shared. His ‘I’m sorry’s were hollow and meaningless if he continued to exercise the same behavior repeatedly. He needed to correct himself before he had a chance to repeat the same mistakes, otherwise, Fleur might lose patience and determine that he is not worth the trouble of loving anymore. 

“Every since the end of the war… I shut down in a lot of ways. I changed. I know that’s not fair to you. We lost friends and family, and, in some ways, you lost me. I allowed jealousy and anger to eat away at me… I’m sorry… What you told me last night—about what happened to you… If something like that happened to you and you have managed to find peace in our life, then I could learn a lot from you. You’re the other half of me that’s been sent to save me. I never believed it fate, or soulmates… I didn’t believe that people were just halves of a set, or pieces of a puzzle… it took meeting you to realize that there were parts of me that were missing, made complete only by your presence in my life. I don’t know if I quite believe in soulmates just yet, but, what I do know, is that I love you so much, and you mean the world to me

Her muscles tightened, her limbs tensed as what was shared the night before, in the darkness of their room, beneath tears and heartache was spoken aloud. She was fearful of the moment he would bring it up, question her for further details, that he would make her live through it again and again as he searched her for answers she didn’t want to give up. She knew it would come, she knew Bill couldn’t leave it at that, but she wasn’t prepared to suffer through it again, and only 24 hours later, it was too painful. And here in the middle of this public establishment, he wouldn’t do that? Would he? She had trusted him. Her breath was held waiting for what was next to come.

Honestly she hadn’t found complete peace when it came to what happened all those years ago as a teenager. The night earlier was a testament to that. The spine crawling fear, the heart wrenching pain would march right back in and start a war in her heart the moment those memories resurfaced but it was Bills presence in her life, his love that fought the tropes that were attacking her heart. It was his presence that had her leaving her horrific past exactly there in the past and giving her a future.

Fleur felt her heart swell and lodge in her throat making it hard to swallow as she soaked in the words rolling off Bills tongue. Fleur watery gaze did not break from his, while extracting her hand from where it rested in his she lifted it up to his face her thumb stroking down his cheek affectionately as she leant in, resting her forehead against his. “I love you too William.” She whispered, tilting her head to capture his lips between her own in a slow adoring kiss.

“You are not just my ‘usband.” She spoke as she pulled away. “If you were eet would be easy to move on, to find someone else, but I could not. Tu es l'homme de ma vie, Amour de ma vie, tu es mon âme soeur. I feel zis a long time ago, Zis is why I do not leave. You ‘urt me but I still love you. Zis does not make sense, eet eez like you come into my life, light a fire and nozing can put it out.” Fleur struggled trying to find the perfect words to describe how she felt.”Bill, I can not explain ‘ow much I love you, ‘ow you make me feel.” She shoke her head in frustration.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Arabian Nights

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

“Maybe Vee will have better luck teaching me French when she’s older,” he joked.

This was one scar he probably wasn’t going to see all too often, at least, when he wasn’t working. One convenience about not having worn his wedding ring in almost a year was not having to be mindful of its placement on his hand before he went to work. When he returned to curse breaking for Gringotts for the first time following their wedding, he got the idea to remove it for safety. He didn’t want to lose it, and he didn’t want to get it cursed. The last thing he wanted to do was to go home to Fleur and have to explain why he wasn’t wearing his wedding band. She’d probably have kicked him out of the house until he removed the curse from his wedding band 

Now that Victoire was a little older, she was more conversational and was starting to move past only voicing her likes and dislikes. Bill would ask his oldest daughter how everything is at home. Though, truth be told, her facial expression said it all whenever Bill asked, before she even started to speak. Her answers were vague but unapologetically honest. 

‘I can hear Mama cry. Why Mama so sad?’ She would ask him, and he would need to explain to her that her mother is just having a hard time adjusting to their new lives. And Victoire let him know perfectly well that she didn’t like the situation. Her actions over the past year proved that she was, in fact, a Weasley by blood. She had learned what the word ‘revenge’ meant from Uncle George. When he would com by Shell Cottage on the weekends and spend time with her, she would steal one of his boots and hide it somewhere around the house, as if its ‘mysterious’ disappearance was enough to keep her father there permanently. He indulged in her little game for the first few times: crawling on his hands and knees and looking under beds and in cupboards. However, after the 20th time, he stopped playing her game and used the ‘Accio’ charm much to her disappointment. Victoire, however, wasn’t thick. For an almost 3-year-old, she learned rather quickly and had once put her father’s boot into a shoe box, then buried it at the bottom of her toy chest. The end result was a loud explosion coming from the nursery. Bill’s boot came soaring down the stairs, but her room had been littered with toys. When her father confronted her with the mess, she put her hands behind her back and gave him her best, albeit still unsuccessful, poker face, ‘Vee, why was my boot in your toy chest?’

‘Gnomes?’ 

‘We don’t have any gnomes…’ she heard her Nana and Pop complain about their garden gnomes always causing mischief around the Burrow and the little girl decided in that moment that they were the best scapegoats. The little Weasley took it upon herself to fix her family since her parents couldn’t. 

“Listen, about earlier, I’m sorry I just blurted out you going back to Shell Cottage with the girls, and I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you first. I know that you and I have a lot to work on, but, part of that is how we manage our time apart, and not just our time together. When Benedict was intercepting our letters, we didn’t get the chance to really talk. As long as we communicate and lay everything on the table, every time, we should be alright, shouldn’t we?”

“Maybe she eez ze best person to teach you, you will not get distracted like you did wiz me. Instead of listening to me you ‘ad your ‘and up my skirt.” Trying to teach Bill to speak French was a mammoth fail. They wouldn’t get very far before she could sense Bill’s hand inching up her thigh, his lips that faltered over the French phrases were gracefully gliding across her neck. The lessons never lasted very long before Bill had left her brain in a haze altering their activities. Fortunately Fleurs English lessons had been at a time when they managed to keep their hands to themselves, their feelings for one another was just a small spark that allowed the pair to behave themselves and keep their attention on the task at hand. Otherwise Bill would still be guessing what she was trying to say in her broken and slaughtered English.

Fleur had to commend her daughter’s attempts at lengthening Bills stay; she couldn’t say she had as much success as the two year old did. That being said had it not been for Victoire he wouldn’t have been there at all. It was for his daughter he visited Shell cottage not for what he called his ex-wife. It was since then Fleur was really beginning to see the intelligence behind her deep blue eyes. It was Fleur’s wish that Victoire would have it better than she did, that others wouldn’t doubt her intelligence the way they had her mother because of her beauty. 

“Eet was not nice to ‘ear you making plans wizout me again. I never wanted to be a wife zat eez just told what to do. Zat eez why I married you because I zought you respect me, because you treated me like I ‘ave a brain.” Fleur didn’t want to be a hollow wife that had all her decisions made for her, where her opinions didn’t matter, that she was just there to do the will of her husband with no concern for her wants and needs.

“You used to talk to me Bill, you used to be able to tell me anyzing but not for a time now. We made decisions together we used to be like a team but you shut me out Bill. Zis eez what I am scared of Bill, you not talking to me.”  Once upon a time this was not a concern in their relationship, he once was open and honest. She was his rock, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, but he hadn’t let her be that for him in quite some time. “You say we need to communicate and lay everyzing on ze table but you are not doing zis Bill. You did Eet again today you are not communicating wiz me until ze last minute when you already decide.”

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Arabian Nights

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

To say that they needed a night alone was an understatement. It had been over a year since he and Fleur had a real private, intimate encounter like this. No work, no kids… though, he would argue that he owed her much more than this at this point. But, in the very least, she deserved his attention. Even after they reconciled immediately after Dominique’s birth, he had to naturally devote his time to their newborn. He didn’t have the time to be a proper husband over the past few days, when he actually wanted to be. Tonight, Fleur would have him all to herself. She wouldn’t have to share him with him heir daughters.

Bill stood aside and allowed Fleur to slide into the booth before he scooted in next to her. Once they were left to themselves, he turned his attention towards her, sliding his hand across her lap so he could hold her own in his. He traced the pad of his thumb along her skin. Sitting in this booth with her, he was reminded of one of their first social outings together, back when they were smitten but still maintaining a friendly but professional relationship. The pair of them were invited for dinner and drinks by one of their colleagues. At least a half a dozen of them clocked out after a long day at the bank and started towards a local pub. There they had appetizers and drinks, and Bill found himself sandwiched alongside Fleur near the edge of the booth. It was too loud for them to have any sort of lengthy conversation, so they communicated with their eyes, and their hand gestures. The colleagues that bore witness to these interactions were not surprised when the two finally shacked up together.

Bill remembered picking up a muggle camera that had been left on the neighboring table and took a bright photo of Fleur. Whoever had the film developed would be surprised to see a beautiful blonde woman amongst their collection of family photos.

It was one of the few times during the war that he had completely forgotten about all that was going on around them. The loud music, the clanking of glasses, the laughing and chatting of the patrons… but, most of all, Fleur. Helping her improve her English had been a reprieve from the Order, and his boring desk job. He didn’t fall in love easily, but, when it did happen, he fell hard. It’s all consuming. All of these feelings and memories being awakened in him through this simple touch of their hands.

“I know that I need to rebuild the bridge of trust between us… but, I want you to know that I will never make such a stupid mistake ever again. I love you…”

Fleur’s eyes were tugged towards where her hands had rested against her lap, now not only her’s sat there atop the red cotton material of her dress but a larger rougher palm had crept around the smaller delicate hand, her eyes followed his thumb as it moved across her skin exciting every nerve ending beneath. But her gaze faltered as a long unfamiliar mark caught her eye. “What ‘appened?” She whispered, her index finger brushing over a healed scar on the back of his hand. She knew ever scar on his body like it was etched into her brain but this one she didn’t know. Bill couldn’t hide any injury from Fleur, even if it was months old and all healed up. She had learnt about each and every one of his scars over the years their lives had been intertwined, each story that accompanied the mark on his skin. She remembered the first time she had noticed an angry scar blanching his body:

Squeezed closely together around the small table in Bill’s apartment Fleur attempted to pronounce an English word she had been having trouble with when her eyes captured a scar beneath his clavicle peeking out from beneath his shirt. Without her consent, her concealed feelings for this man commanded her actions, her hand extended reaching out towards him, her finger grazed over the raised scar tissue “What ‘appened Beel?” She breathed before raising her head to find his gaze, searching his eyes for an answer while hers filled with concern. This man was just a friend, a colleague, someone she shouldn’t be caressing as she did now.

 “You are right, zere eez much building to do. I cannot say zat I trust you yet, I want eet to be true, but eet eez not.” This wasn’t the first time Bill had broken her trust, smashing it and trashing it but each time it had returned never quite as strong as before, but it returned. So she had hope this time would be the same, that in time she would trust him again. In time the fear of him leaving again wouldn’t be following her like a black cloud. “I am still scared zat you will leave me again. You can say you will never make zat very stupid, very idiot mistake again but I need more zan zat Bill. Your words ‘ave been not reliable for a long time.” Bill had said countless things over the last nine months that did not store any confidence in what came out of his mouth. How could she believe the words of a man that said he wasn’t in love with her, that he didn’t want to be married to her and yet months later he was saying the complete opposite.

[sweetgingerpie]

“You know what happened… a particularly nasty curse. No special or heroic story to tell,” someone else had gotten the worst of it. The woman had suffered deep lacerations to her hands. Cuts opened up along the skin pulled over her knuckles like an invisible knife had ripped through her fingers. The curse was derived from biblical texts of the period that would have the hands of thieves cut off at the wrist as punishment for theft. Bill put her on two weeks leave and sent her home, and, since they were one curse-breaker short, he had to work overtime to make up for it. Now, that was Lydia’s responsibility while he was on paternity leave.

Bill remembered that first time that Fleur had asked about the scars that line his body from many years of curse breaking. He had abused his body and tested its usefulness over the years. As a result, he had been terribly self conscious about it, especially in the presence of women he fancied. She caught him off guard with her feather-like caress against his chest. One minute he was helping her pronounce the word ‘specifically,’ the next she was pulling aside the collar of his shirt to expose a mark that stretched over his clavicle. However, it wasn’t out of disgust or horror that she inquired about long since healed injury, but out of care and concern for his well being. This woman whom he had known for less than several months at the time. Now, there’s was no injury that he could hide from Fleur, especially one that left an everlasting impression on his skin with no promise of ever going away.

“If you don’t want my word, what is it you want, then? I’ll give it to you, whatever it is,” he knew that it wasn’t going to be something he could give her right now. Something tangible that he could hold in his hand and present to her. He was sure that time was what she needed from him; time to recover, time for them to spend together, time for him to prove his love and loyalty to their marriage and their family.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

What else had she missed? Bill had lead a completely separate life, he had kept her on the outskirts, far away, where she was kept oblivious to the ongoings of her husband. what else had she missed out on in those nine months he hadn’t shared with her? He had missed out on Dominique’s time growing in her belly while she had missed out on him becoming chief curse-breaker, seeing him off on his first day, hearing about the excitement of his dream job and every day that followed. She’d been back in England worrying about whether he was ok, if he was safe, if he was eating, if he was getting along with his new coworker, wanting to know what adventures he was getting up to, if he was in the hospital or not. But reminded she wasn’t part of his life now. “But zere eez a story, please tell me I want to know. I ‘ave missed out on so much since you left. Do you ‘ave any ozer scars I do not know of? Any stories I ‘ave missed out on?” Back when he was just a coworker, a friend, someone she secretly had feelings for, no one knew this red haired Englishman had butterflies flitting around her belly, but her and her younger sister Gabrielle but this touch was bound to spike some questions. When she first discovered that scar she hadn’t expected what was further beneath his cotton shirt. She never imagined that was just the beginning. Her voice had cracked in concern asking the same question his marked chest exposed for the first time, she hoped her eyes were playing tricks on her, but her eyes were telling the truth. It was from then that she began to understand the danger of curse breaking, began to understand the danger the man she was developing feelings for was too close for her liking. It’s not that she didn’t want his word, she needed that reassurance that he loved her, that he wanted to be with her but it wasn’t going to mend the deep scars to her heart. The best healer was time. She needed time for him to prove that he was here for the long run, that he wasn’t going to bolt if things got tough, she needed to be shown his love through the little every day things that had been missing. “I need time. We need time. Zis cannot be fix in one night, you must know ‘ow much I want to trust you like I did, to be like we was. But you really ‘urt me Bill and I know I ‘ave ‘urt you. I am sorry for zat…I want us to be ‘appy again and in love again.”

[sweetgingerpie]

Despite their time apart, Bill had no real stories to tell of their separation. Becoming Chief Curse Breaker had cemented his position as the BEST curse-breaker for Gringotts. He was the most experienced, and now he worked exclusively for Gringotts all year long with benefits and securities that he didn’t previously have as simply being a freelance curse-breaker under contract for months at a time. The only stories he had to tell involved Lydia, and Bill was certain that she didn’t want to hear about that. His life had revolved around three things for the past several months: work, Lydia, and Victoire. Even then, a lot of his time with Lydia could be classified as business more than pleasure. Despite the fact that Fleur had claimed that he ‘replaced’ her with this woman, he did nothing of the sort. Replacing her would’ve meant falling in love with another woman, and he hadn’t.

“Really, Fleur, there’s no big story,” he was sure that he dug his own grave years ago by embellishing a few early stories when she first started to inquire about his scars. What he first thought would be intrigue, resulted in concern and fear for his well being on her part, “There are a few more. My wedding ring finger got hocked off a month ago. I had to keep it in ice until our healer could get to us, but, you can’t see the scar now because of my wedding band, so, that worked out,” even when they were properly together, Bill was skeptical about telling Fleur every detail of every unfortunate accident he has had while curse-breaking. He knew that she would drop everything to rescue him from trouble. She would leave both Kingsley and the French Minister on the hook if her husband got himself into some trouble.

“You didn’t hurt me, Fleur. It was Benedict. It was him all along. You did nothing.”

“What about you?” He asked, more interested to hear about what has transpired in her life since they lost touch ten months earlier. He knew that she worked up until she qualified for maternity leave, but, that’s about it. All of their discussions up until recently pertained to Victoire and her needs. They didn’t sit down to have a casual discussion about the activities of their daily lives until this very moment. They weren’t at that place yet in their separation, and Bill had begun to have doubts if it would ever get to that comfort level, “Besides carrying around a baby, what did you do?”

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Her loved ones would always have the highest place in her heart, they were the priority, they would come before anything else in her life. Nothing else could compare to how important her family was to her, Bill the family her heart had chosen was there at the top with their children. If they needed her she would be there, rain or shine, in amongst the danger or by a bedside. Fleur was fiercely loyal, she fretted over the safety of those she loved, and if they were ever in trouble she would always do everything in her power to help them. And as Bills wife, with his track record peace was very far and few between. Especially with the knowledge of his past injuries which only fuelled her concerns. She understood that knowing more would only deepen her worry for Bills safety, that knowing the pain he suffered would only hurt her too, but it didn’t stop her from asking each and every time. Fleurs fingers moved for the first time in a long stint, still intertwined with Bills, their body’s close, facing one another in the dimly lit booth, like they were sharing deep and dark secrets. Her thumb grazed over his fourth finger on his left hand, stumbling over the wedding ring that sat snugly. She left that scar hidden, her eyes could stay blind to that one as she could not bear to remove her eternal promise to love, care and stand by him from his finger. It had sat as a reminder that he no longer wanted those things from her on the dresser in their room at Shell cottage every day for eight months. Not another day did she want to see that ring parted from his finger. Those eight months didn’t hold very many memories that she wanted to relive. If someone was interested they would be sorely disappointed by what they found. Bill had cut her out of his life what appeared to be painlessly but for Fleur it was if she was carrying his pain atop of his, the pain he had tossed aside, like she didn’t mean anything to him, like giving up his wife was as simple as throwing away food scraps at the end of a meal. Fleur could not just loose the man she loved without feeling she had lost part of her world, he was her husband, the man she shared a life with, he had become a her rock, a pillar but when gone things became shaky. Those days upon days were pulled down by his absence, he had taken her joy with him and trying to find even a pinch was a mission she fought daily. “I worked…I am taking some work ‘ome wiz me so I can be wiz Victoire.” Bills leaving enlightened her to the fact that she hadn’t been spending as much time with her daughter as she should. Work had kept her busy and it seemed like home was getting on ok without her there more often. Especially after Bill left and Victoire had gone down to one full time parent and a father who turned up now and then when it suited him. “I ‘ave been teaching ‘er French, she eez doing very well. We went back to France many times.” It was nice being back in her home country, the familiar places, the familiar people. An attempt to spend time away from their home, where all the memories of their life together haunted her, an attempt to busy herself, keep her mind from lingering on what caused her so much pain. It allowed her to immerse her daughter in her French culture, living with Bill English became the language of choice and trips to France were far and few between if only to visit her French grandparents. This time she showed Victoire a side of her she hadn’t experienced.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Arabian Nights

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

To say that they needed a night alone was an understatement. It had been over a year since he and Fleur had a real private, intimate encounter like this. No work, no kids… though, he would argue that he owed her much more than this at this point. But, in the very least, she deserved his attention. Even after they reconciled immediately after Dominique’s birth, he had to naturally devote his time to their newborn. He didn’t have the time to be a proper husband over the past few days, when he actually wanted to be. Tonight, Fleur would have him all to herself. She wouldn’t have to share him with him heir daughters.

Bill stood aside and allowed Fleur to slide into the booth before he scooted in next to her. Once they were left to themselves, he turned his attention towards her, sliding his hand across her lap so he could hold her own in his. He traced the pad of his thumb along her skin. Sitting in this booth with her, he was reminded of one of their first social outings together, back when they were smitten but still maintaining a friendly but professional relationship. The pair of them were invited for dinner and drinks by one of their colleagues. At least a half a dozen of them clocked out after a long day at the bank and started towards a local pub. There they had appetizers and drinks, and Bill found himself sandwiched alongside Fleur near the edge of the booth. It was too loud for them to have any sort of lengthy conversation, so they communicated with their eyes, and their hand gestures. The colleagues that bore witness to these interactions were not surprised when the two finally shacked up together.

Bill remembered picking up a muggle camera that had been left on the neighboring table and took a bright photo of Fleur. Whoever had the film developed would be surprised to see a beautiful blonde woman amongst their collection of family photos.

It was one of the few times during the war that he had completely forgotten about all that was going on around them. The loud music, the clanking of glasses, the laughing and chatting of the patrons… but, most of all, Fleur. Helping her improve her English had been a reprieve from the Order, and his boring desk job. He didn’t fall in love easily, but, when it did happen, he fell hard. It’s all consuming. All of these feelings and memories being awakened in him through this simple touch of their hands.

“I know that I need to rebuild the bridge of trust between us… but, I want you to know that I will never make such a stupid mistake ever again. I love you…”

Fleur’s eyes were tugged towards where her hands had rested against her lap, now not only her’s sat there atop the red cotton material of her dress but a larger rougher palm had crept around the smaller delicate hand, her eyes followed his thumb as it moved across her skin exciting every nerve ending beneath. But her gaze faltered as a long unfamiliar mark caught her eye. “What ‘appened?” She whispered, her index finger brushing over a healed scar on the back of his hand. She knew ever scar on his body like it was etched into her brain but this one she didn’t know. Bill couldn’t hide any injury from Fleur, even if it was months old and all healed up. She had learnt about each and every one of his scars over the years their lives had been intertwined, each story that accompanied the mark on his skin. She remembered the first time she had noticed an angry scar blanching his body:

Squeezed closely together around the small table in Bill’s apartment Fleur attempted to pronounce an English word she had been having trouble with when her eyes captured a scar beneath his clavicle peeking out from beneath his shirt. Without her consent, her concealed feelings for this man commanded her actions, her hand extended reaching out towards him, her finger grazed over the raised scar tissue “What ‘appened Beel?” She breathed before raising her head to find his gaze, searching his eyes for an answer while hers filled with concern. This man was just a friend, a colleague, someone she shouldn’t be caressing as she did now.

 “You are right, zere eez much building to do. I cannot say zat I trust you yet, I want eet to be true, but eet eez not.” This wasn’t the first time Bill had broken her trust, smashing it and trashing it but each time it had returned never quite as strong as before, but it returned. So she had hope this time would be the same, that in time she would trust him again. In time the fear of him leaving again wouldn’t be following her like a black cloud. “I am still scared zat you will leave me again. You can say you will never make zat very stupid, very idiot mistake again but I need more zan zat Bill. Your words 'ave been not reliable for a long time.” Bill had said countless things over the last nine months that did not store any confidence in what came out of his mouth. How could she believe the words of a man that said he wasn’t in love with her, that he didn’t want to be married to her and yet months later he was saying the complete opposite.

[sweetgingerpie]

“You know what happened… a particularly nasty curse. No special or heroic story to tell,” someone else had gotten the worst of it. The woman had suffered deep lacerations to her hands. Cuts opened up along the skin pulled over her knuckles like an invisible knife had ripped through her fingers. The curse was derived from biblical texts of the period that would have the hands of thieves cut off at the wrist as punishment for theft. Bill put her on two weeks leave and sent her home, and, since they were one curse-breaker short, he had to work overtime to make up for it. Now, that was Lydia’s responsibility while he was on paternity leave.

Bill remembered that first time that Fleur had asked about the scars that line his body from many years of curse breaking. He had abused his body and tested its usefulness over the years. As a result, he had been terribly self conscious about it, especially in the presence of women he fancied. She caught him off guard with her feather-like caress against his chest. One minute he was helping her pronounce the word ‘specifically,’ the next she was pulling aside the collar of his shirt to expose a mark that stretched over his clavicle. However, it wasn’t out of disgust or horror that she inquired about long since healed injury, but out of care and concern for his well being. This woman whom he had known for less than several months at the time. Now, there’s was no injury that he could hide from Fleur, especially one that left an everlasting impression on his skin with no promise of ever going away.

“If you don’t want my word, what is it you want, then? I’ll give it to you, whatever it is,” he knew that it wasn’t going to be something he could give her right now. Something tangible that he could hold in his hand and present to her. He was sure that time was what she needed from him; time to recover, time for them to spend together, time for him to prove his love and loyalty to their marriage and their family.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

What else had she missed? Bill had lead a completely separate life, he had kept her on the outskirts, far away, where she was kept oblivious to the ongoings of her husband. what else had she missed out on in those nine months he hadn’t shared with her? He had missed out on Dominique’s time growing in her belly while she had missed out on him becoming chief curse-breaker, seeing him off on his first day, hearing about the excitement of his dream job and every day that followed. She’d been back in England worrying about whether he was ok, if he was safe, if he was eating, if he was getting along with his new coworker, wanting to know what adventures he was getting up to, if he was in the hospital or not. But reminded she wasn’t part of his life now. “But zere eez a story, please tell me I want to know. I ‘ave missed out on so much since you left. Do you ‘ave any ozer scars I do not know of? Any stories I ‘ave missed out on?” Back when he was just a coworker, a friend, someone she secretly had feelings for, no one knew this red haired Englishman had butterflies flitting around her belly, but her and her younger sister Gabrielle but this touch was bound to spike some questions. When she first discovered that scar she hadn’t expected what was further beneath his cotton shirt. She never imagined that was just the beginning. Her voice had cracked in concern asking the same question his marked chest exposed for the first time, she hoped her eyes were playing tricks on her, but her eyes were telling the truth. It was from then that she began to understand the danger of curse breaking, began to understand the danger the man she was developing feelings for was too close for her liking. It’s not that she didn’t want his word, she needed that reassurance that he loved her, that he wanted to be with her but it wasn’t going to mend the deep scars to her heart. The best healer was time. She needed time for him to prove that he was here for the long run, that he wasn’t going to bolt if things got tough, she needed to be shown his love through the little every day things that had been missing. “I need time. We need time. Zis cannot be fix in one night, you must know ‘ow much I want to trust you like I did, to be like we was. But you really ‘urt me Bill and I know I ‘ave ‘urt you. I am sorry for zat…I want us to be ‘appy again and in love again.”

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Arabian Nights

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

To say that they needed a night alone was an understatement. It had been over a year since he and Fleur had a real private, intimate encounter like this. No work, no kids… though, he would argue that he owed her much more than this at this point. But, in the very least, she deserved his attention. Even after they reconciled immediately after Dominique’s birth, he had to naturally devote his time to their newborn. He didn’t have the time to be a proper husband over the past few days, when he actually wanted to be. Tonight, Fleur would have him all to herself. She wouldn’t have to share him with him heir daughters.

Bill stood aside and allowed Fleur to slide into the booth before he scooted in next to her. Once they were left to themselves, he turned his attention towards her, sliding his hand across her lap so he could hold her own in his. He traced the pad of his thumb along her skin. Sitting in this booth with her, he was reminded of one of their first social outings together, back when they were smitten but still maintaining a friendly but professional relationship. The pair of them were invited for dinner and drinks by one of their colleagues. At least a half a dozen of them clocked out after a long day at the bank and started towards a local pub. There they had appetizers and drinks, and Bill found himself sandwiched alongside Fleur near the edge of the booth. It was too loud for them to have any sort of lengthy conversation, so they communicated with their eyes, and their hand gestures. The colleagues that bore witness to these interactions were not surprised when the two finally shacked up together.

Bill remembered picking up a muggle camera that had been left on the neighboring table and took a bright photo of Fleur. Whoever had the film developed would be surprised to see a beautiful blonde woman amongst their collection of family photos.

It was one of the few times during the war that he had completely forgotten about all that was going on around them. The loud music, the clanking of glasses, the laughing and chatting of the patrons… but, most of all, Fleur. Helping her improve her English had been a reprieve from the Order, and his boring desk job. He didn’t fall in love easily, but, when it did happen, he fell hard. It’s all consuming. All of these feelings and memories being awakened in him through this simple touch of their hands.

“I know that I need to rebuild the bridge of trust between us… but, I want you to know that I will never make such a stupid mistake ever again. I love you…”

Fleur’s eyes were tugged towards where her hands had rested against her lap, now not only her’s sat there atop the red cotton material of her dress but a larger rougher palm had crept around the smaller delicate hand, her eyes followed his thumb as it moved across her skin exciting every nerve ending beneath. But her gaze faltered as a long unfamiliar mark caught her eye. "What 'appened?" She whispered, her index finger brushing over a healed scar on the back of his hand. She knew ever scar on his body like it was etched into her brain but this one she didn't know. Bill couldn't hide any injury from Fleur, even if it was months old and all healed up. She had learnt about each and every one of his scars over the years their lives had been intertwined, each story that accompanied the mark on his skin. She remembered the first time she had noticed an angry scar blanching his body:

Squeezed closely together around the small table in Bill’s apartment Fleur attempted to pronounce an English word she had been having trouble with when her eyes captured a scar beneath his clavicle peeking out from beneath his shirt. Without her consent, her concealed feelings for this man commanded her actions, her hand extended reaching out towards him, her finger grazed over the raised scar tissue "What 'appened Beel?" She breathed before raising her head to find his gaze, searching his eyes for an answer while hers filled with concern. This man was just a friend, a colleague, someone she shouldn’t be caressing as she did now.

 “You are right, zere eez much building to do. I cannot say zat I trust you yet, I want eet to be true, but eet eez not.” This wasn’t the first time Bill had broken her trust, smashing it and trashing it but each time it had returned never quite as strong as before, but it returned. So she had hope this time would be the same, that in time she would trust him again. In time the fear of him leaving again wouldn’t be following her like a black cloud. "I am still scared zat you will leave me again. You can say you will never make zat very stupid, very idiot mistake again but I need more zan zat Bill. Your words 'ave been not reliable for a long time." Bill had said countless things over the last nine months that did not store any confidence in what came out of his mouth. How could she believe the words of a man that said he wasn’t in love with her, that he didn’t want to be married to her and yet months later he was saying the complete opposite.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Arabian Nights

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Bill hadn’t felt like he had changed in any capacity. However, he could see how Fleur would have a completely different interpretation. The person who left her was not the man she married, and he would agree. He admitted that it was stupid, but, he knew that admitting guilt would not make her feel secure now that they were together again. He would need to prove himself.

Even though Bill’s fingers were laced with Fleur’s and the side of their bodies were pressed up against each other’s in the backseat of this small cab, his attention was on the passing attractions in the window. Along the way, they passed by a rather large and extravagantly decorated mosque, one that Bill had visited for the first time almost ten years ago.

Prior to moving to Egypt, Bill had no affiliation with religion or any religious institutions. However, it wasn’t until his first few accidents as a curse-breaker that he sought some form of emotional guidance. One of the Egyptian curse-breakers working on behalf of the Egyptian government and its Minister was praying near Bill’s bedside in the medical tent. Bill had caused the accident. His childish inexperience was to blame which resulted in the death of a Healer after they had become cursed. Gringotts suspended the then 23 year-old for three months, putting him through rigorous training exercises before reinstating him. During this time of intense training and rehabilitation following the incident, this senior curse-breaker shared with Bill the secret to his long luck: a sense of spirituality. He believed that his Islam faith was what kept him alive all these years. He prayed for his safety, prayed for his recovery when things went sour, and prayed for clarity when he was wrestling with his demons. The 23 year-old Bill was taught how to pray before going to retrieve the artifacts, and he still did that almost ten years later. He had a prayer rug that he kept in his tent, and he used it regularly before starting his work day. It was like a meditation for him. His job was about precise control and release, and he needed to clear his head. Feeling looked after and protected gave him a sense of security. In the years to follow, he read the Quran and defines his religious affiliation as spiritual with sporadic Muslim practices.

“You’d prefer just a night on the town instead…? Well, a’right…”

“Fy alwaqie, sydy, yumkinuk ‘an tadeuna min hna.“ (“Actually, Sir, you can let us off here.”) he spoke, the driver having pulled off from the main road towards the curb. They had stopped off at the 26th of July Corridor, just before crossing the bridge onto Gezira Island. Bill paid the fair with muggle currency from his own wallet and waited for the taxi to speed off before he took Fleur’s hand and escorted her across the street. Their alternative destination was the Cairo Jazz Club, “I go to this club almost every evening,” the club was dimly lit with majority bar seating and a few satin booths towards the rear where the stage was situated. A man was perched on a stool in the center of the stage, his fingers strategically grazing the strings of the guitar in his lap with his mouth almost pressed against the microphone in front of him. He was singing softly and Arabic, and had the attention of almost every patron in the venue with the exception of a few sitting at the bar.

“Ah, Bill! 'ahlaan bk!” (“Welcome!”) spoke the host from behind his podium.

“Saabir, min aljid ruyatuk.” (“Saabir, it’s good to see you.”)

“Min hadhih almar'at aljamilat maeak?” (Who is this beautiful woman with you?”)

“This is my wife, Fleur. We were on our way to Saraya Gallery when she declared that she wanted to see more of the city. I decided to bring her here.”

“Wee’lcome, Meesus Weasley,” he politely welcomed Fleur with a nod of his head, “Eet eez our pleas’ore to have you wiz us tonight. You must take her to za beeg light show at za pyramids tonight, yes? Very beautiful!”

“We’ll probably end our night away from home there.”

“Wonderful! Would you prefer a booth tonight?”

“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Bialtaakid la. Zare eez one in za back.” (“Certainly not.”)

Bill was right, telling her what he did was stupid, that he felt guilty wasn’t going to help. It wasn;t going to change anything, the damage had been done, there was no going back, only forwards. She already knew his stupidity, that he had made bad decisions, what she needed was to know this wasn’t going to happen again. She needed him to convince her, to show her that he loved her, that he was wholeheartedly back, that he wasn’t going to up and leave like that again. That was in the past now, neither of them could change what happened however much Fleur would have liked those nine months to be wiped away, all they could do was focus on their future together, work on their relationship and returning to what they had before. This time around Fleur wanted things to be different.

 Fleur’s hand gripped tightly as they fought the traffic, weaving through the cars and bikes. In the heart of revving engines and hooting of horns Fleur jammed her body against Bill’s like they were stuck together by glue. Her fingers relaxed in his grip as their feet found the footpath on the other side, she could hear jazz music wafting from one of the store before them, each note ringing louder in her ears as they stepped into a dimly lit bar.

 Fleur unable to understand what was being said in this foreign tongue stood silently at Bill’s side.What she could understand from the jumbled set of sounds, unfamiliar to her ears was that they knew each other and soon the conversation was switched to her as the Egyptian man turned his attention to her completely instead of taking sneaky glances out of the corner of his eye. She could speak in many languages but this was not one of them. Apart from English and French in which she used on a daily basis, she had been taught Slovakian by her grandmother as a child. She wouldn’t boast at being an expert but she understood bits and pieces of German, Spanish and Italian. Living in Europe, her childhood had been immersed in different cultures. Attending Beauxbatons who welcomed students from Spain, Portugual, Netherlands, Luxemburg and Belgian, it wasn’t so hard picking up a language when one listened to it most days for seven years.

 Fleur followed Bill and the host as the proceeded deeper into the establishment, their fingers parting as she fell into step behind, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she drunk in every surface, every face, the dim orange lighting creating a warmth as she took a seat against one of the red cushions seats.  

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Arabian Nights

This was date one of their new beginning. One could call it a first date, the first date of their second chance, the starting point of round two. Even though their first date was a lifetime ago and they had shared plenty of dates in between, a wedding and two babies there was a familiar feeling there. With her fingers intertwined with Bills nervous butterflies began fluttering around her stomach just as she had at 18 years old and venturing into London with this 25 year old Englishman. It was a jumble of nerves and excitement, it had been so long since their last date, the last time they spend quality time together as husband and wife it was like another life. It was as if he wasn’t the man she had spent seven years with, the man who she called her husband. He had become a little more of a stranger in these last months and less the man who had centred her life. She had missed out on a year of his life, was this chief curse-breaker a different man to the one who worked at the ministry, a family man, her husband? She didn’t know when he changed or how he changed but one minute he was supporting her and loving her, the next he was packing up and leaving his life with her for a new one. Bill had closed himself off to her this last month so even though they had been living in the same house, tonight would be the night she’d see him past the wall he had built, past the tiredness and busyness two young girls brought to their lives. Would the man she married still be there or a new man she must get to know? Had the press known of the new little Weasley they would surely be outside the doors waiting for a snapshot of the newborn. Fortunately that was not the case and the new parents were keeping it their little secret for the time being, with only their families aware of her arrival in the world. She didn’t know how long their families could keep the secret of their newest niece and granddaughter that would send the reporters over in a flurry to get the first picture but at least for tonight they didn’t have to worry. It was just them, just a husband and wife, nobody special to the rest of the town but each other. As Fleur stepped out onto the street, arm wound around Bills, the night was fresh, it was not cold like it would be at home. Usually donned in plenty of layers and a thick cloak at this time of year instead tonight her arms were bare against the lukewarm Arabian air. She slid across the back seat of the taxi when Bill opened the door for her to get a good view out the window allowing room for Bill to slip in next to her. The streets were busy with crowds of people, stores all lit up warm and welcoming, their owners coercing those who walked by to browse their store. Fleur turned her attention to Bill as the taxi started to move down the street. The lights and people sparked a curiosity within her, she wanted to feel this city for herself, the real Cairo, not the one she’d been living in for a month. “Can we ‘ave a real Egyptian night, show me your city, what you love about zis place?” She whispered a speckle of adventure in her eyes. Fleur came from a land, from a far away place where camels are only in books, the heat is never so rich and the sand was sparse in comparison. These weren’t new discoveries but tonight as the streets sparkled back at her she wanted to know more.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Red hair, and [freckles] You must be a Weasley.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Bill was not the slightest bit put off by Fleur’s post-pregnancy bump. This was his second brush with a post-pregnancy wife so he understood the process and the affects that it would have on her mood and body. The days to follow were always rough, from the standpoint of having to deal with a generally displeased newborn and the accompanying aches and pains following birth. In many ways, Bill felt powerless in those few days. He couldn’t adequately soothe his baby, and he couldn’t help Fleur feel better. All he could do was rock Dominique back and fourth and make sure that Fleur’s bedside was loaded up with everything she needed: plenty of water, medications, hot tea, menstrual pads, and pillows. Bill’s main job was serving as the go between for newborn and mother, and making sure that Victoire was appeased. He was on paternity leave for two weeks, so it was easy for him to devote his time to his family. Lydia had been hired to take his place until the end of the following week, though, he was sure she’d be happy to sit in his chair for much longer.

Both Bill and Gabrielle looked up when Fleur spoke, Bill’s eyes having lighted up at the sight of her. It had been a while since he had seen her in anything beyond a large jumper and a pair of jeans. Her large breasts and long legs caught his attention, so the dress was serving its intended purpose, “You look beautiful,” he stood up and made his way towards her, pressing a tender kiss against her lips. The bit of weight along her belly didn’t bother him. Fleur’s figure had fluctuated in shape and size over the years as a result of her two pregnancies, and Bill was accustomed to the change. It didn’t concern him that she could no longer fit into her wedding dress as it was originally tailored. He was sure that he wouldn’t fit into his wedding dress robes again, either. He blamed Fleur for that, though. She’s been cooking for three people for the past few years and his portion sizes had doubled as a result. Although he wasn’t pudgy, his waist had healthily thickened and he was no longer lanky and appearing severely underfed.

“I can’t wait to take you out, but, first let’s say goodbye to the girls,” he turned again and this time approached Gabrielle, bending over so he could bring his head close to Dominique, “Mama and I are going now. You be good for your grandparents and your aunt, okay? Be sure to drink that entire bottle of milk that your Nana is keeping cold for you when you wake up. Your Mama made it special for you,” she continued to sleep, completely unfazed by her father, even as he leaned in further to press a kiss against her forehead.

“Let’s go see what Nana is doing in the kitchen…” Arthur spoke as he exited Victoire’s bedroom with her hand still clasped in his, “Fleur and I are leaving, Dad,” Bill informed his father.

“Okay, you two have fun. You want to kiss your Mama and Papa goodbye, Little One?” Arthur asked Victoire and picked her up in his arms. Bill smiled and leaned in to make rapid kissing noises against her cheek, “Are you gonna be good for Nana and Pop? We’ll be home after your bedtime, so we don’t want you to wait up.”

The light in Bills eyes was something she wanted to capture and keep forever. She wanted him to look at her like this every time she walked into the room not that look of disgust that drained through his every feature. It chipped at her heart every time she caught the dislike shining through his gaze. She was used to that very look from many woman who were jealous, the ones who’s men were looking at her the way they wanted to be looked at, but not the man she loved, not her husband. It was a sledge hammer to her chest to hear his words of lost love but to see it no longer on his face where it was steadfast and strong all these years was a pain she could not describe.  

Those words were never so desirable, if only because they were from those lips. The word beautiful she heard too many times a day that the meaning wore off very quickly but the man she loved so dearly was immune, the very same man who hadn’t uttered such words in a very long time. 

She had started cooking for him when they were dating, the first time ever was to thank him for the English lessons he had so kindly volunteered to give her, for the company and maybe an excuse to spend more time with the man who set butterflies loose in her belly. Once she moved in with him she cooked for him almost every night, either a hot cooked meal on the table or leftovers stowed in the fridge when he stayed out late. He must of liked her cooking if he kept eating the meals she put in front of him, and her cooking didn’t last long when he was in the house.

Fleur lowered herself onto the soft sofa cushions next to her sister leaning her chin on her shoulder to get a better look at her daughter. “Tu me manques déjà mon chéri.” I miss you already my darling, she whispered. “ Ne me manquez pas trop, je serai à la maison très bientôt.” Do not miss me too much I will be home very soon. Fleur ran her thumb over her soft cheek; her eyes crunched shut oblivious to the words of her mother. She lifted her chin off her sister’s shoulder so she could turn her attention to Gabrielle. “ Merci de rester et de me soutenir.”Thank you for staying and supporting me. She knew it must have been hard for her sister to stay when she didn’t agree with giving Billl another chance, when she was still livid about what he had done. “Envoyez-moi si elle a besoin de quelque chose.” Send for me if she needs anything, Fleur spoke before pressing a kiss against her sister’s cheek and pushing herself up off the sofa. She could easily sink into the cushions, curl up and sleep away the early evening. She had to force herself up before she got too comfortable and would have to stay there for the rest of the night. All dolled up she needed to go out and show everyone how good she looked only a week after giving birth, she had spent plenty of nights with her hair pulled back messy on the top of her head, clothes that were cosy and comfortable over fashionable. She managed to shed the oversized jumpers for outings beyond their front door. But inside the confides of their home and in the presence of her family comfort with priority with her big belly, aching back and sore feet.

“Be a very good girl and look after your sister, yes?” Fleur’s body brushed up against Bill’s as she leaned in to place a kiss against her daughter’s cheek. “I love you Victoire, In ze morning me and Papa will be ‘ere.”

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Red hair, and [freckles] You must be a Weasley.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Fleur had fallen into Bill’s life probably during one of the most stable periods he had ever experienced. He worked a nine-to-five shift, then came home, ate dinner, and went to bed, only to wake up the next day and do it all over again. Fleur fit into that fold perfectly, with the exception of his secret involvement with the Order on the side. From Bill’s perspective, he imagined that the war would last longer than it had. Suddenly, several months later, he found himself coming to terms with the conditions of domestic life with Fleur with only a handful of trips to Egypt planned for the prospective future. He had wanted to talk to her about it, but, then she found the letter from Aileen, and then she got pregnant with Victoire. Life just kept happening, forcing him to prioritize other things with no breaks in between. And, especially with a baby on the way, there was just no point in talking about an alternative lifestyle.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he spoke and remained silent for another minute while Fleur fastened the tie around his neck, “I love you,” he reached up with one of his hands and cupped his fingers against the side of her neck, stroking his thumb along her jaw as he pressed his lips against her forehead, “Now, go on and put something nice on, I’ll wait here with Gabrielle.”

“I think you and I need to talk next…” He addressed Gabrielle after Fleur left, who was still sitting on the far end of the couch with a sleeping Dominique nestled comfortable in her arms, “Non, we don’t. Z’ere eez nozing to talk about. You are back wiz Fleur and zat eez zat.”

“Not so much. I can get on with Matthieu and Apolline hating me, but, not you. You’re like my own little sister. I can’t stand you hating me.”

“Well, you should ‘ave sought about zat before you left Fleur.”

“It was complicated, Gabby.”

“Non, eet wasn’t. You made a choice. You chose to leave and break ‘er ‘eart. Not try, not stick eet out and make eet work. You were a coward.”

It shocked Bill to listen to Gabrielle speak like this. Then again, she wasn’t a little child anymore. She was 17, not 10, as she was when Bill first met her. And, like her mother, her attitude was not misplaced, “You’re right. I was a coward. I’ll admit to that. I thought only of myself and I hurt Fleur and Victoire and Dominique, even though she might not think so being so young. And I hurt you. Fleur was most worried about your impression of me when she first introduced us. More so than either of your parents. She wanted us to get on well, because she loved us both so much. I know that I shattered your impression of me, and I’ve destroyed the bond that you and I have had. I have plenty that I have to make up to Fleur already, but I would like to make it up to you, too. That is, if you’ll let me…”

“Just treat Fleur better, Bill. For ‘er, for me… Please, don’t do zis to ‘er again. Any of it.”

“I won’t, I promise. I won’t be that person again.”

“Good.”

“So, about that tour of the tombs that I promised you seven years ago…”

Gabrielle’s eyes suddenly lit up, “Yes?”

“… What are you doing tomorrow? I’m still on paternity leave, but that doesn’t mean I can’t show up for a couple hours and take you around…”

“I would like zat, Bill. Very much,” she spoke with a smile, probably the first smile of hers that had been directed at him in a long time.

All through their conversation, Dominique slept peacefully in her aunt’s arms. She had a long afternoon, being passed from one relative to the next with no breaks. If only he could get Dominique to fall asleep this quickly. Fleur was clearly the favorite parent of the two, which wasn’t a surprise. Dominique cooperated with her mother. She was soothed by her mother, and allowed her mother to comfort her. Bill, on the other hand, felt that he needed to earn that cooperation. He got her to burp after meals, but, that was a biological response and not necessarily because Bill was doing anything special.

Even though things appeared to be steady during that period of their lives to Fleur it was unpredictable, most nights she did not know when or if Bill was coming home. Those many months Bill was fallacious, he was keeping something from her, she couldn’t deny that despite his many disputes. He was unreliable, she could not count on him completely, returning home late or leaving her high and dry. And that did not change when she was let in on this secret; their life was on rocky grounds, she feared for his life every time he would leave the house, would he come back to her. What was different then that it was now, she was stable in her believe of his love for her, that he wouldn’t stray, and that he wanted more than she could offer. She was oblivious back then and that made it easier, her eyes had been opened and shown what was beneath the surface. What she thought was their stable relationship, underneath was Bill’s silence, his pent up feelings and thoughts, his need for freedom but because he had suppressed so much he had kept himself chained up. And she could not free him without the key.

"J'espère le retrouver en un seul morceau quand je reviendrai.."I hope to find him in one piece when I return, Fleur teased her sister as she left the room. She knew Gabrielle was not impressed by Bill’s behaviour and held a heart full of anger and hurt since she first found her sister a hot mess of tears. Just as Fleur cared deeply for her little sister and would do anything to protect her, the same could be said about Gabrielle. She was older now, she was able to do the looking after now and not just be taken care of. She had grown up safely protected under her big sisters wing, now it was her turn to take that role. Unlike her mother Fleur could trust Gabrielle alone with Bill and not worry about returning to a crime scene.

Fleur had already a dress in mind when she started sorting through the rack of dresses. The one that would cover her belly, to hide the small bump of Dominique's home that hadn’t quite yet disappeared, her uterus still shrinking back down to size. One to show off her long legs and inflated breasts distracting the eye from her middle and the spot she was feeling a little self-conscious about.

"Zank you Molly for zis." Fleur spoke as she entered the kitchen her hand grasped around a bottle of her warm breast milk. “It’s my pleasure my dear. You and Bill need some time to patch things up and I need some time with my granddaughters.” Molly was busying herself in the small kitchen as she spoke. "I will put my milk in zee fridge if Dominique needs eet later." She was doubtful that Dominique would drink from the bottle, she had a hard enough time getting her to drink from her breast. And Victoire was the same she was fussy and wouldn't take the bottle over her mother’s nipple. “Thank you Fleur. You said in your letter that she’s having trouble feeding?” Fleur nodded. “She eez getting better but eet eez not easy like eet was wiz Vee.” Fleur’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Every baby is different and as long as shes getting enough milk which she looks like she is that’s all that matters.” That’s what everyone kept telling her but it couldn’t quiet relieve all the worry, a small ripple lingered in the pit of her stomach. “You will send for me if she needs anyzing, yes? I can come back any time.” Fleur’s eyes searched Molly’s for reassurance, she would be back in a flash if her babies needed her. “Go have some fun with Bill.” Molly shuffled her out the door into the living room. “Don’t worry about anything, we’ll be fine.”

 "There's no yelling. Eez zat mean you made up?" Fleur spoke hopeful as she entered the room the scarlet red chiffon material fell delicately from beneath her breasts and almost to the floor, the flowing material parted as she walked to expose her long chiselled legs. Her generously sized breasts on show case as the neckline plunged lavishly down her chest. She fumbled around with her purse, a thin wrap slung over her arm.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Red hair, and [freckles] You must be a Weasley.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Bill’s unpredictability was not good for domestic life. Children needed structure, something consistent, and that just wasn’t Bill. That hadn’t been his style for most of his life, so he was trying to conform himself to being a family man as well as a curse-breaker. It was difficult, to say the least. He wanted to be the husband and father that Fleur and their daughters needed, and sometimes that pressure was overwhelming. His father told him recently that there was more than one way to be a husband and a dad, and he and Fleur just needed to find a routine that worked. ‘Do you think that your Mum and I knew what we were doing from the start?’ Arthur asked him, ‘It took us years to get into a comfortable life that suited both of us. You and Fleur will get there. You just have to work at it.’ It’s not as if there was no excitement in their life to be had. A woman who caused his heart to race with just one glance was certainly worth his attention. To feel that again was such a relief after over a year. Falling in love with Fleur again after Dominique was born was like meeting her for the first time again. Being in love, in and of itself, was adventurous. Fleur made him love being in love.

“Thank you,” he spoke with a smile in response to Fleur complimenting his appearance. It wasn’t often that he put on a suit and tie without first having had to be coerced into wearing the monkey suit by Fleur. It was the first suit she had bought him during their first Christmas together. With plans to spend Christmas Eve with her family and Christmas morning with his, she tugged him along the snow-filled Paris streets and into an Atelier NA - Costume et Chemise sur mesure Paris St. Honoré. The shop owner had closed his store to the public as a personal favor to the Delacours. Being a friend of the family, more specifically the husband to one of Apolline’s high society friends, he was more than happy to oblige. Normally accustomed to dressing French men of considerable taste, Bill was the last thing he expected to see walking through his doors on the arm of the eldest Delacour daughter.

Upon first seeing him, he asked, ‘Excusez-moi, le récipient ne doit-il pas être pris jusqu'à lundi?’ Excuse me, the receptacle isnt to be picked up until Monday? Assuming that this ripped jeaned, fanged-earring wearing man was there to pick up the garbage. Bill was probably the worst customer he had ever had, but Bill managed to get a tailored suit out of the ordeal, and paid for by his girlfriend. It only seemed appropriate that he wear it again now.

“It’s not a scarf, Sweetie. It’s called a tie, because ties around your neck. I’ve just come so your Mama can tie it for me,” he could just as easily tie it with magic, but that would deprive Fleur of her chance to be involved, even if it was something as little and domestic as fastening a tie, “You’re going to stay here with your sister. Me and Mama are going to go out for a little while. Nana and Pop will play with you and make you dinner and put you to bed.”

 Fleur didn't feel as though she fitted in with his unpredictability; she was always in the rear, trying to keep up not knowing which way he was going to turn next. It was only now she was truly realising this part of him. In the beginning it was covered by his need to be in Britain with his family fighting the war, and she kept him grounded to shell cottage in the years that followed but that wasn't the case anymore, she couldn't hold him anymore; he would just slip through her fingers.  

 Fleur was transported back all those years ago, a bounce in her step as they walked down the Parisian street, both wrapped up in thick coats, Fleurs arm wound around his, snuggling in close to his warmth. They could have just appearated in the alleyway a couple stores down but Fleur had opted to take the long walk through the city to admire the Christmas spirit, to introduce Bill to Paris at Christmas time. It was Fleur's favourite holiday, the snow that covered everything in a pure white tinge, brightening the darkness that settled during winter time, the lights that twinkled at night, the music that was almost like magic.

It was one of Fleur's Christmas gifts to Bill, to purchase him a nice suit, he had assumed they would go down to a generic store in London. Fleur was not having that, she would take him to Paris where they made suits properly, to someone who was trusted, who would make Bill look impeccable. It might have been the more expensive option but Fleur wanted the best for her Bill.

She had sat at a distance watching as Bill was measured up and fitted, a big grin glided over her face when he finally came out in his finished suit. It was the same smile that lifted her lips now.  

 "Where you go? I wanna come." Victoire whined. Fleur took a deep inhale and exhaled before she began again fearful of her daughters reaction to them leaving. "You will not like eet Vee eet will be boring for you, you will 'ave fun 'ere wiz your Nana and Pop. You 'ave not see zem for a long time, do you miss zem?" Victoire nodded "Nana will make you a yummy dinner and Pop will read you your favourite story. Yes?"

Fleur pulled Victoire off her lap "Show Pop ze new books you got for Christmas." Fleur whispered letting her feet find the floor before she released her hold. Returning her attention to Bill, lifting her arms to find the ends of the material hanging from his neck as Victoire ran off, grabbing her grandfather’s hand and pulling him along to her bedroom. "Thank you" She whispered as her fingers worked to loop the material around itself. She could feel Bills warm breath against her forehead, catching the small strands across her hairline as they stood close. This small act was a lot bigger in her mind than one would imagine, she took it as Bill letting her in. He was letting her be a part of his life again, not just an observer but a contributor.

It may only be a small gesture but it was a start, it planted hope inside Fleur that he would keep letting her in slowly.

 Pulling the tie tight around his neck and smoothing it against his chest she stepped back and admired her handy work. "I should get ready, I cannot let zis ‘ansome man waste."

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Red hair, and [freckles] You must be a Weasley.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Bill wouldn’t object to another restaurant if Fleur expressed a preference for another spot. He knew that every culture was horribly picky when it came to their own cuisine, so, unless the chef was French, it would be a foreigner’s interpretation of French food, and would likely not compete with someone who has refined taste buds. Bill, on the other hand, was easily impressed. It was easy to please someone who started every meal not expecting it to be up to par with the feast that his mother had prepared for the family every day growing up. “Pardon if this is a little out of line, but, I don’t think you need to worry about that, Fleur. Bill loves you, I know it,” spoke Arthur with a reassured smile. “‘E certainly ‘as a drôle way of showing eet,” Apolline interjected, clearly not taking the advice of her husband who urged her to remain civil for this visit. “Bill isn’t perfect, Apolline. I’ll admit, he’s made some bad choices in his life, but I’m very proud of him. He’s taking on his responsibilities and doing what’s right. He’s never had it terribly easy in our house. Molly and I forced him to grow up too fast, and that’s our fault. We gave him more responsibility than any child should have had and I’m not surprised that he lives his life a little a’loof because of it. When you get to the root of him, he’s a good man, he wants to do what’s right,” when Arthur concluded his defense of his son, Apolline, now visibly fuming, abruptly shot up from her seat and flared at Arthur directly on. “Was ‘e doing right by ma fille when ‘e left ‘er while she was enceinte? Zen accusing her of ‘aving an affair when ‘E eez ze one who ‘as been infidèle?” “Apolline, assez!” Apolline, enough! Lectured Matthieu as he put his arm around Victoire, as if trying to shelter her from the dispute between the adults. “Ce n'est pas assez! Vous pouvez vous asseoir là-bas, mais je ne peux pas! Il a blessé notre fille! Il continue à la blesser, et vous vous tenez de côté! Je ne le ferai plus! Je dirai comment je me sens!” It is not enough! You may be able to sit there idly, but I cannot! He hurt our daughter! He keeps hurting her, and you stand aside! I will not anymore! I will say how I feel! She erupted into anger. “Apolline, mon amour, calme-toi. C'est une bonne occasion. Laissez-le aller, s'il vous plaît.” Apolline, my love, please calm down. This is meant to be a happy occasion. Let it go, please. Matthieu pleaded with his wife before she huffed and stormed past Arthur, making her way towards the front door before she stepped through and pulled it tight shut behind her. “I am sorry, Arzer…” Matthieu’s voice cut through the awkward silence that Apolline’s departure had created. Standing up, he smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt before he approached Arthur. “She just loves Fleur zo much, any-zing zat ‘appens to ‘er, she feels, too.” “I understand. Molly is the same. It’s alright, Matthieu.” Smiling, Matthieu turned his attention to his daughter, placing his hands against her arms, “Je suis désolé pour l'explosion de votre mère. Ce n'est que par amour pour vous. Je vais aller après elle … Voyez si je peux la ramener.” I’m sorry for your mother’s outburst. It is only out of love for you. I’ll go after her—see if I can bring her back. He pressed a kiss to both of her cheeks before he too left.

This was exactly why she brought her concerns up with Arthur and not with her mother. She had hoped that Victoire was keeping her occupied and she and Arthur were further enough across the room to avoid such a reaction. She was wrong. She needed encouragement, what she didn’t need was her mothers negativity, she knew full well what her mother thought and felt about Bill, so she wanted someone elses opinion that she respected. She wanted a new piece of advice, not the same piece that dragged the person she loved through the mud along with her own ability to make the right decisions. She wanted some honesty not her mothers bias opinion repeated over and over. 

Fleur was under the impression her mother had said her piece already to Bill himself, that the threat had passed but it came when she wasn’t looking, she wasn’t expecting it and this time it was catastrophic. Victoire curled up in response to her grandmother’s raised voice, bringing her legs up to her chest, her hands over her ears attempting to hide herself in her grandfather’s side. “Mama, you are scaring Victoire.” Fleur chimed in her protectiveness as a mother kicking into gear. But she wouldn’t listen. 

 "Je connais papa. Je ne vais pas contester ce qu'elle dit, une partie de ce qu'elle dit est vraie et je suis d'accord avec des morceaux.Mais elle ne peut pas dire ces choses, surtout pas à notre famille. J'ai choisi cela et elle doit me respecter et ma décision.“ I know papa. I will not dispute what she says, some of what she says is true and i agree with bits and pieces. But she can’t say these things, especially not to our family. I have chosen this and she needs to respect me and my decision. Fleur was not happy with her mothers outburst but that didn’t stop her from returning his kisses and whispering “Je t'aime papa” before watching him walk out the door. She was on the fence whether her mother should come back or not. She was still very angry and this environment was only fanning the flames. And she definitely didn’t want a repeat of what just happened. Maybe it would be better for her to have some space, ideally getting rid of some of this anger before coming back. 

 "I am sorry Arzur, you did not deserve zat, my mozer eez a very ….“ Fleur paused searching for the word in English to express her mothers firey-ness ”..Like a explosion.“ She finished, reaching out with a free limb resting it against the side of his arm. "I feel embarrass, I should not ‘ave say anyzing.” She shook her head humiliated, she wanted to hide, to disappear out the door just as her parents had done. This was her father-in-law, one of the nicest men she had met, he had always been so kind, from the moment she met Bills family, he was the one that accepted her, welcomed her into the family while Molly refused. “You ‘ave been so kind to me, I 'ate she speak to you like zis." 

 Fleur’s eye caught her daughter crunched up on the couch. leaving his side, Dominique still attached to her chest, "Gabby, can you 'old Dominique.” Gabby looked embarrassed too, not sure if she should stay or go. Fleur lifted the small bundle who started to make a fuss as she was seperated from her mother. She sat herself down on the sofa where her parents had left empty, Victoire curled up alone now. “Vee.” She placed an arm around her body, pulling her so she was snuggled in close to her her side. “Are you ok?” it took a moment but Victoire responded climbing onto her lap trying to wrap her arm around her mother, her small arms only reaching to her sides. “I do not like when Mere yells.” Victoire whimpered into her mothers blouse. “I do not too, sorry Mere yelled.” “Why she yells?” “Because she eez angry, but we do not do zat when we eez angry yes? We talk about eet in a quiet voice yes?” The last thing Fleur wanted was for Victoire to think yelling like that was acceptable and she definitely didn’t want an angry toddler yelling in the house.

[sweetgingerpie]

“It’s quite alright, Fleur. Your mother’s anger is not necessarily misplaced. I don’t want to get involved in your marriage to Bill, but, I don’t believe you need to be concerned. He’s been acting very different ever since you two got back together. There’s a light in him again,” Arthur was giving his son the benefit of the doubt. He truly believed that his oldest son was a good person, better than most. He didn’t condone some of Bill’s behavior, but that didn’t prevent him from loving him, and believing in that good man that he was, “He’s always been adventurous, that boy. I don’t know where or from who he gets it from. During the first war, Molly would keep the kids sequestered in the house as much as she could. Bill would sneak off and she’d lose track of him, but he’d always run back inside before dinner. And then, when he joined the Order at 25. I was 25 during the first war and I would’ve been too scared to join the Order, and he does so without a second thought. I swear, he must have nine lives, for him to keep coming back to us… Thank Merlin, he does… He wouldn’t be here with you if he wasn’t prepared to invest himself in it. All things superficial aside, nothing tugs at a man heart tighter than love.” “Why is Mere angry at Papa?” Victoire asked, confused. Meanwhile, Bill finished up his shower and dried himself off with a towel before he moved to exit the bathroom, the towel now carefully wrapped around his hips. Molly, from her position in the kitchen, could see down the hall and noticed Bill moving into, what she presumed was, the bedroom, “Don’t get water all over the floor, Bill! You know better! And put the wet towel away!” He swore it was Fleur speaking through his mother’s voice, “Yes, Mum!” He called back before he disappeared into the bedroom. There he unearthed his only black suit and a slender black tie that he kept in the deepest corner of his closet. When he finished dressing for the occasion, with the exception of his tie still having been draped loosely around his neck for Fleur to tie, he left the bedroom and walked around the corner. He expected to find both families still in the living room, with Molly stationed in the kitchen, but was instead greeted by a scarcely occupied living room with Fleur, the kids, and Gabrielle on the sofa and his father standing off a ways, “Where’d the other Delacours go off to?” He asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “They stepped out for a while. They should be back soon,” his father spoke up, not about to volunteer why they needed to step out in the first place. “Aw, Vic, what’s wrong?” Bill asked once he caught a glimpse of the upsetting look on Victoire’s face. He approached her as she sat on the sofa, crouching down onto his feet, “W-Why is Mere mad at you? She yells a lot.” “It’s complicated, Sweetie. But, you don’t have to worry about this anymore. Everything is going to be alright now,” Bill tried to reassure his oldest daughter. Apolline could be angry at him all she wants to be, but Bill wasn’t going to allow her to express that anger in front of the children. He didn’t want his children to be exposed to that strain, especially when they were too young to really understand where all of that animosity was coming from and why. Now Bill was going to make it a priority to talk to Apolline about trying to maintain a civil front in the presence of the kids, and hopefully beyond.

[dropdead-gorgeous-fleur]

Fleur believed in the same goodness, Arthur had seen it and so had she, that was one of the reasons she loved him. She knew deep down he was a good person, that's why she hadn't given up on him yet. He unfortunately just appeared to lack the ability to make good decisions, but that didn't mean he was not good in the way her mother believed. It was deep down beneath the surface, buried so well sometimes you couldn't find it, with his bad decisions and mistakes heaped on top hiding it from sight. Apolline had had enough of Bill's behaviour and had concluded that he wasn't a very good person, not willing to look deeper.

"Zat eez what scare me, 'e likes adventure." It was not only that he was attracted to danger, that he kept getting himself into situations that could have very easily ended up with him dead, he continued to risk his life and the life they had together because of this adventurous streak but it also lead to him needing a high level of excitement in his life. And it had Fleur wondering did she and their life together provide him with enough exhilaration to not have him bored and searching for something to fill the gap. The last year would have her answering no, and had her questioning would it happen again? would he again become uninterested and distant? leaving her and the girls to find a better life, a woman that sparked something inside of him? "'e does not zeenk 'e just do eet." Fleur never knew what Bill was going to do next and that frightened her, he didn’t tell her, he would just do and shed find out in the aftermath, she couldn’t stop it she had to deal with the consequences. "You do not worry Ma belle Cheri" Fleur ran her fingers through her matching shade of silver tinted hair, placing a kiss against her forehead. "You only worry about giving mama lots of kisses yes?”    

"You look very 'andsome Bill." A soft smile tugging at her lips. "Papa looks 'andsome Ve? Yes?" Fleur questioned. It had been some time since she'd seen him all dress up in black tie attire. It was a rare occasion to see him looking so dapper and without any cohesion on her part. Who was this man? Fleur suddenly felt scrappy in her attire, she was as beautiful as always but not quite as clean and crisp as Bill was crouching before her and Victoire squished up together in home clothes.   "Why you wearing a scarf papa? it's hot outside." Victoire had noticed the piece of material around his neck and assumed it was a scarf the way it hung loosely around his neck and over the top of his suit. "Are we going somewhere cold? Are we going home?"