@billtheweasley
When Fleur Delacour put her mind to something, she always achieved it, no matter how small the task. When she was chosen for the Triwizard Tournament, she’d been terrified, but she persevered because she knew that most were expecting her to fail. When she graduated and took the desk job at the Ministry, she knew that it would be a struggle but she did it because she had dreams of being a lawyer. She wanted to improve her English, but she underestimated just how difficult the English language could be. Most of her co-workers either stared or rolled their eyes when they thought she wasn’t looking. The last thing she expected was a saviour in Bill Weasley, but he offered dinner, a conversation, and Fleur couldn’t refuse.
They were a couple of lessons (and dinners) in now and Fleur felt like every time she took one step forward with her grammar, she took two steps backwards. It didn’t help that her mentor was strikingly handsome and patient and kind. Takeout boxes strewn across the coffee table, Fleur huffed, her patience wearing thin at the English language. “Putain de merde,” she swore under her breath as she threw up her hands in defeat, “Zis lanuage is impossible! Why does eet all ‘ave to sound zee same?” At this rate, she’d never become a lawyer. Maybe she should get comfy in her desk job. Fleur groaned at the thought and covered her face with her hands.