Fic: Working at Gringotts
Title: Working at Gringotts
Summary: This is a follow up to "A woman in London" and "First Day at Gringotts", This is a moment in the year that Fleur Delacour spent in London working for the wizarding bank, and meeting Bill Weasley
Characters/Pairings: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley
Genre: Romance
Beta: Nope
Rating/Warnings: R to be sure
Medium: fanfiction
Word Count: 3910
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: sure
If yes, your Tumblr username: tiramisu-misu
“Such a cliché“, Fleur said against his lips.
“What can I say?” He responded and she could feel his smile against her mouth.
“Bogrod!” She exclaimed.
“Bogrod? What the…”
He turned around, and sure enough, their boss was there, having opened the closet where they had been hiding.
The Goblin didn’t say anything but his expression spoke volume. He turned around, muttering about wizards and their unprofessional behaviour.
They both blushed, then got themselves sorted out before exiting their hiding place. Nobody was around to witness their walk of shame, and even if they had, they certainly felt no shame.
What difference a few weeks made, Fleur thought, as she went back to her desk where Bogrod had dropped a pile of files as if to punish her for what he knew was going on. She didn’t mind. He could drop another ton of paperwork to fill if it meant she got another 15 minutes in that closet with Bill.
He winked at her from across the room and she smiled back. It hardly felt like weeks had gone by.
A few weeks back
When she had gotten back to the Leaky Cauldron that night, Fleur had felt exhausted, in a good way, like she had gotten things done, and it felt amazing. Ever since she had been done with her exams, and had gotten her degree, she hadn’t been able to focus on something so hard it made her forget about all the changes that had taken place in her life. The girl who had arrived to Hogwarts had died and stayed behind in Hogwarts, as a shell, and the woman who had walked out had had no idea who she was or how to live in a world she used to know.
She had gotten her mail from the innkeeper, Gabrielle having sent her a letter through the family owl Hugo. She had also ordered for some food to be delivered in her bedroom, before making her way upstairs. She had gone immediately to the mirror, wanting to see if she looked as different as she felt, and she smiled when she saw she did, for a moment at least. The blue rings under her eyes could still be seen, but for the first time in a long time, she looked tired in a healthy fashion, the tiredness you’d expect from an 18 year old woman starting a new job. The shadows of the Triwizard tournament competitor had faded, for the day at least.
She had read her sister’s letter over her dinner, thinking that she should look for a flat in London, so that she could do some cooking of her own. Then, she had gone to bed, delightfully exhausted, refreshed though feeling on her last leg.
The next day, she went back to Gringotts, and she may have spent a few extra minutes playing with make up before leaving. She thought about the red-haired man, and she smiled. A pedestrian walking across from her thought the way was directed at him, and she had to walk faster in order to get rid of him and his bad humour.
She had arrived, and had gone to see her boss, to get her daily assignment. It would be dull, having to deal with protocols and assessment of security breaches. She would find none, she already knew that. She entertained the thought of coming across something worth reporting, but the Goblins knew their business and nothing matched their self-preservation instinct. If money was their business, and their only one too, they would be nothing but thorough when making it safe.
Back at her desk, she was suddenly hit by a wave of sadness, wondering what Cedric would have been doing if he had been alive. During the Yule Ball, they had shared a couple of dance, and he had said something about his father wanting him to follow in his footsteps and working for the Minister of Magic. Fleur had felt like Cedric wasn’t sold on the idea, and she wondered if he would have gone against his father’s wishes. Then she remembered Cedric’s father, in shock when he had seen his son’s body, dead.
She looked at the ceiling, fighting the tears she knew were there. This was not life, she thought bitterly, it couldn’t be. Life couldn’t be about having one good life, and one moment ruining it forever, not because someone had done you harm or because you had been targeted, but just because fate had decided to throw you that curveball.
She lowered her head and use a tissue to dab at her eyes, thinking that she didn’t know how much more she could take of this. One moment she was fine, and the next, she had all those memories she had to live with… Putting them in Pensieve would not be an option, as they were too potent and too anchored in her memory to be removed using her wand. She had to learn to live with those, or hope that they would become less damageable. She felt instantly like the most insensitive person on Earth, for complaining when Cedric was dead, Viktor had been under the imperio spell and she had only been hurt, a few scratches and burns, nothing time hadn’t made fade away from her skin. But her soul remained scarred forever.
She heard someone stop next to her desk and she lifted her head. It was the red headed man, except he had his back to her, and he was pretending to be reading something from a paper sheet.
“Chin up,” she heard him whisper, “Bogrod is in a foul mood and making one of us cry would definitely make his day. That thing that plagues you is yours to deal with, but don’t let it give our dear boss a hold on you.”
And he was gone, walking straight ahead as she watched.
She forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths, then put the tissue back in her handbag. Nothing to be seen there.
When Bogrod came at her, yelling, if such a thing could be done by a Goblin, more like rumbling in a deep voice that clearly meant trouble, she was ready and took the lecture without flinching, saying she would do her best for whatever she had done wrong not to happen again. Now to figure out what it was she had done wrong….
She looked on the side, and like the day before, met the man’s eyes from across the room. She nodded at him, and he smiled briefly as he nodded back.
She went back to working, knowing Bogrod was waiting for one of them to look idle to make another comment.
When it was time for lunch, and thus time for her to leave Gringotts, having no business keeping her there longer that day, she looked towards the red haired man, but he was gone already. She sighed but left the bank, going to hunt for something to eat.
The following day was the same, except that she didn’t break down, though sometimes she was still overwhelmed by memories. She would smell something and it would trigger a memory, and she would have to fight her instinctive response, which would have been to flee, no matter how little sense it would make, and to keep on doing what she was doing.
She wondered if she would portkey or floo back home for the week end. It was tempting. She had nobody here, and while the innkeeper was very nice, she was not home. Hell, she wasn’t even somewhere she could somewhat call her own. She thought of her sister, of her parents, of her friends. She thought about going to the beach with her family, pretending like she was not of legal age, or that she was nothing more than her parents’ daughter. It would be nice.
By Thursday noon, she was still not sure if she wanted to go back for the week end. Wouldn’t it be like admitting defeat? Then again, who was supposed to be judging her? Her parents would support her, no matter what she did. She had spoken to them through floo channel the day before and they had been their perfect self, or perfect in her eyes. They had told her how proud they were about her decision to work in London and at Hogwarts, while making her feel that she was still welcome any day any moment really back home if she wanted to.
She grabbed her handbag, and left her desk for the day. She went out of Gringotts and went to one of the pub she had noticed the previous days. She ordered some Fish & Chips, and took them to go. She searched for a place to go when she spotted a fountain. As she got closer, she saw him. The red haired man. She realized that she still didn’t know his first name. She had not made a friend amongst her colleagues so she had nobody to tell her. She wondered what she should do: she really wanted to go to him and say hello, but she had been there almost a week already and they hadn’t interacted except for the time he had warned her of Bogrod’s temper. However, he was eating, and she didn’t want to intrude. Maybe he didn’t want to speak to her. Maybe he was just a kind soul and he had decided to help her that time and that was it.
“You know, you can sit with me if you want,” she heard, and she blushed as she saw that he had spotted her.
“I don’t want to intrude,” She said with a shy smile, feeling extremely self-conscious of her French accent.
“I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t want you to join me.”
She felt a thrill when he used the verb “want”, and hoped she wasn’t missing on an idiomatic expression, reading too much in words she was learning to use.
She sat down, in front of him, on the edge of the fountain.
She opened her lunch bag and put it in front of her, as if she was sitting at a dining table. He laughed and said:
“I don’t believe fish and chips were meant to be eaten so solemnly.”
“You can take a French girl out of France, but you can’t take France out of the girl,” she said, struggling to come up with the end of that saying, wondering if she was messing it up.
“I’m Bill, by the way,” he said, and the sun caught the fang on his earring.
“Fleur,” she said, holding out her hand.
He wiped his on a napkin and shook it, making her feel all woman and Veela at once.
“I know, I remember you from the Tournament,” he said smiling.
She saw a shadow on his face, this brief cloud, the same way she did whenever she thought of the Tournament.
“I remember you too, you came to visit Harry Potter,” she said, hoping to help them move past his sad reminder.
“I did. How are you liking London?” He asked.
“I haven’t seen much of it. I keep wanting to go out, but when I get back to the Leaky Cauldron, I feel exhausted and I just don’t do anything.”
“You’re staying at the Cauldron?” He asked, still smiling. “It must be expensive after a while, though less than living in London perhaps.”
If he kept on smiling, she would never eat a bite of her dish, she would be too busy smiling back at him.
“Yes. I need to go look for a flat, but I haven’t … I guess I don’t know where to begin…”
“People usually get together and get a flat share together,” he said.
“I know but Papa…”
She looked at his lunch, which had been obviously made at home and brought for the day, and she looked at her fish and chips she would probably only eat a bit of before tossing it. His clothes were nice but looked like they had seen better days though he probably took care of them. She had a feeling that while he earned a good living at Gringotts, Bill came from a family who had not been as rich as hers. She could see it in his clothes, in the way he behaved himself.
“Papa?” He said, urging her to go on.
“Papa… will be paying for the flat I chose, and he believes that I should live on my own, at least until I get to know someone enough to do this flat sharing thing.”
She knew few people could afford to live on their own in London, but her Papa, bless his heart, had told her that if she wanted, he would pay for her to have her own flat and no noisy flatmates who would make her feel unwelcome.
“You don’t have to be ashamed of having money,” he said, still smiling, and she felt herself blush, knowing he must have seen the way she was appraising him.
“Not everybody has money, and it’s not nice to rub it in, is that the right way to say it?” She asked, hoping to distract him.
“Yes, we say that. And you’re right, not everybody has money but you shouldn’t feel ashamed to have some, since you know you’re privileged. I didn’t grow up with much money, as you seem to have guess, but it doesn’t matter to me who has some and who doesn’t. Money put aside, we’re all made the same way. Some are just prettier to look at than others…”
She giggled, and hoped he meant her.
“You know, your fish is dead, and I’m pretty sure your chips have come to terms with the fact that they’re going to be eaten. You should dig in."
She laughed, and took a bite. She offered him some which he took, thanking her.
And then they started talking. She told him about traveling to England, and he told her about Egypt. She told him about her sister, and he told her about his large family, making her laugh more. They exchanged stories about the week they had had. They didn’t mention the fact that he had seen her cry at her desk.
He told her he was 25 and she wondered if he saw her as a kid. She hoped not. She surely didn’t see him as a teenager, and she wanted him to see the woman she was.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” He said.
“You can try, maybe I will answer.” She said coyly.
“I can tell, as everybody who walks by us, that you’re of Veela heritage. Am I wrong?”
She had been so focused on him, she had stopped noticing that she didn’t go unnoticed, but now that he mentioned it, she saw guys looking at her, as usual.
“I am. My mother’s mother, Bonne Maman, she is a Veela. I am a quarter Veela. Is it a problem?”
“No, of course not. I just wanted to …. Nevermind,” he said suddenly, blushing madly, and she smiled at him, wanting to know what he was thinking.
“You can tell me…”
“Maybe later.”
“Ok.”
They talked some more, until he suddenly realized that he was going to be late back to work.
“I won’t see you tomorrow, I’m sent somewhere in Dorset to deal with a situation,” he told her, “but if you want, I can come and help you look for a flat on Saturday? We could meet at the Leaky Cauldron around 2PM? Or you can do whatever you want and forget I asked that…” He said, and once again she wanted to kiss his blushing cheeks.
“I would like that very much, but are you sure it won’t be a bother?”
“It couldn’t be a bother. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Besides, I would hate for someone to try to take advantage of the fact that you’re a foreigner to try and fool you, though I suspect the Veela in you would fascinate anyone…”
“Such a gentleman,” she said.
“I will need you to tell my mother you actually said that, she would believe I was lying if I tried to tell her myself,” he said with a laugh.
“A gentleman can wear a fang as an earring, and have long hair, as long as his manners are perfect. Your mother should know she did a great job raising you,” Fleur said.
“Oh well,” he said.
They both got up, and she wondered what was going on through his head.
He seemed to snap out of it and said:
“I really have to go… Saturday, 2PM, Leaky Cauldron?”
She nodded.
He smiled brightly at her and went back to the bank.
She wouldn’t be flooing home that week end, she thought with a grin.
They went flat hunting, and at first, when one of the flat owners thought they were a couple, Bill told them they were not, much to Fleur’s dismay, who hadn’t been able to think of anybody but him since their lunch. The second time someone made that same mistake, Fleur spoke up, and took Bill’s hand, smiling, and saying that they were indeed dating. He looked at her puzzled, but went with it.
When they got out of the flat, she let go of his hand, and said that she would rather people thought she would be living with a man, just in case someone became overwhelmed by the Veela in her and became dangerous. For the next visit, he put his arm around her shoulder, and kept her close, as the owner explained what he was looking for in a renter.
Fleur wanted to dance when they didn’t part after getting out of that flat, Bill’s arm still around her, and hers around his waist. It felt good. It felt real. She never wanted it to end.
The sixth flat turned out to be the one she went for, and she liked that he liked her choice. She was told she could move in the next week end.
Bill offered her later to help, no matter how meagre her belongings she would have to move.
They spent the following week having lunch together, with her buying something from a shop, while he would always bring lunch, usually leftovers from the meal his mother had cooked the day before. He told her that he had decided to move back to London, after the Tournament and what had happened, because he wanted to be close to his family, in case anything would happen, and she squeezed his hand in understanding.
She told him about how Bonne Maman had met the only wizard who was immune to her magical abilities. In the end, he hadn’t been immune, but he had decided that he wouldn’t fall for something that was just magic.
“Bonne Maman was so mad, but she was also madly in love. People were falling over her all the time, and Bon Papa treated her like he couldn’t see that she was a Veela. She ended up courted him I think, if one can call it that. She decided she would marry him, and she made him see things her way. She was everywhere, she was the only woman he could see. Bon Papa told me that he couldn’t tell if he would be the flavour of the month or more, but when she first told him about how cute their children they would have would be, he had known she really wanted and loved him.”
“I can sympathize with your Bon Papa, Veelas are so beautiful, you want to believe they can only see you, but nothing can assure you that it is the case.” Bill had said blushing slightly.
“Well, this Veela sees only one man here, and his name is William,” Fleur said, her French accent coming back as it did every time she wanted to flirt or was too stressed.
“Lucky guy,” Bill said. “Do I know him?”
She slapped his arm and he kissed her, then and there.
She didn’t floo back home that week end either.
She did go back the following week end, and Charlotte and Gabrielle gushed over the stories she told them, about how Bill had taken her to see the muggle London. He had known nothing about it, and they had been two tourists in the crowd, discovering things together.
She thought of him all week end long, and when she came back on Monday morning, he gave her a look, that told him that he had thought about her just as much.
She went to fetch some supplies in a closet, and as she was exiting, he carefully pushed her back in, with that naughty smile on his face. He had kissed her and she had laughed, running her hands through his long hair. She missed all of him, and she had missed this, these moments, these things she knew about him and that she could use to her advantage.
She had gotten out of the closet five minutes later, and her lips had been the colour of cherries, like she was wearing lipstick, which she wasn’t.
He helped her move in, and he went with her when she went shopping to furnish her new place. She pretended to bribe him with a French meal, but she knew that even without that offer, he would have helped her anyway.
Back to the present
It has been six weeks since their first kiss, and she had cooked him dinner as often as she could. She knew he valued his time with his family, and she couldn’t have him all to herself all the time. She wondered when she would meet them, then thought that perhaps, they weren’t there yet. She had never been in a serious relationship before, and she wasn’t even sure if this was a serious relationship. All she knew was that she was in love with him. It was so cliché, but it was true. When she had seen her Maman, it had been the first thing her mother had commented on:
“You look like a woman in love”
She had looked at herself in the mirror, wondering what it meant, what gave away what she was feeling, and had found nothing. Maybe it wasn’t for her eyes to see.
She watched Bill across the room, and wondered if they were dating, casually or if they were somewhere further down the line. She just didn’t know.
She thought about that making out session they had had a couple of night ago, when he had caressed her breasts and she had kissed his chest. They hadn’t gone further, but it had already felt intense and she couldn’t wait for it to happen again. She thought about them having sex, making love perhaps, and she found herself longing for it. Whether it was sex or love, she was on board with that. In the meantime, she supposed she had no other choice but to go with the flow.
A paper flew to her desk, and she unwrapped it, laughing at his caricature of their boss.
She was free, and carefree, for the first time in so long. She made a silent prayer, wanting it to last, and wanting him to keep on being in her life as long as possible.
Ash/Slytherin/125 points(maxed ou)
Summary: This is a follow up to "A woman in London" and "First Day at Gringotts", This is a moment in the year that Fleur Delacour spent in London working for the wizarding bank, and meeting Bill Weasley
Characters/Pairings: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley
Genre: Romance
Beta: Nope
Rating/Warnings: R to be sure
Medium: fanfiction
Word Count: 3910
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: sure
If yes, your Tumblr username: tiramisu-misu
“Such a cliché“, Fleur said against his lips.
“What can I say?” He responded and she could feel his smile against her mouth.
“Bogrod!” She exclaimed.
“Bogrod? What the…”
He turned around, and sure enough, their boss was there, having opened the closet where they had been hiding.
The Goblin didn’t say anything but his expression spoke volume. He turned around, muttering about wizards and their unprofessional behaviour.
They both blushed, then got themselves sorted out before exiting their hiding place. Nobody was around to witness their walk of shame, and even if they had, they certainly felt no shame.
What difference a few weeks made, Fleur thought, as she went back to her desk where Bogrod had dropped a pile of files as if to punish her for what he knew was going on. She didn’t mind. He could drop another ton of paperwork to fill if it meant she got another 15 minutes in that closet with Bill.
He winked at her from across the room and she smiled back. It hardly felt like weeks had gone by.
A few weeks back
When she had gotten back to the Leaky Cauldron that night, Fleur had felt exhausted, in a good way, like she had gotten things done, and it felt amazing. Ever since she had been done with her exams, and had gotten her degree, she hadn’t been able to focus on something so hard it made her forget about all the changes that had taken place in her life. The girl who had arrived to Hogwarts had died and stayed behind in Hogwarts, as a shell, and the woman who had walked out had had no idea who she was or how to live in a world she used to know.
She had gotten her mail from the innkeeper, Gabrielle having sent her a letter through the family owl Hugo. She had also ordered for some food to be delivered in her bedroom, before making her way upstairs. She had gone immediately to the mirror, wanting to see if she looked as different as she felt, and she smiled when she saw she did, for a moment at least. The blue rings under her eyes could still be seen, but for the first time in a long time, she looked tired in a healthy fashion, the tiredness you’d expect from an 18 year old woman starting a new job. The shadows of the Triwizard tournament competitor had faded, for the day at least.
She had read her sister’s letter over her dinner, thinking that she should look for a flat in London, so that she could do some cooking of her own. Then, she had gone to bed, delightfully exhausted, refreshed though feeling on her last leg.
The next day, she went back to Gringotts, and she may have spent a few extra minutes playing with make up before leaving. She thought about the red-haired man, and she smiled. A pedestrian walking across from her thought the way was directed at him, and she had to walk faster in order to get rid of him and his bad humour.
She had arrived, and had gone to see her boss, to get her daily assignment. It would be dull, having to deal with protocols and assessment of security breaches. She would find none, she already knew that. She entertained the thought of coming across something worth reporting, but the Goblins knew their business and nothing matched their self-preservation instinct. If money was their business, and their only one too, they would be nothing but thorough when making it safe.
Back at her desk, she was suddenly hit by a wave of sadness, wondering what Cedric would have been doing if he had been alive. During the Yule Ball, they had shared a couple of dance, and he had said something about his father wanting him to follow in his footsteps and working for the Minister of Magic. Fleur had felt like Cedric wasn’t sold on the idea, and she wondered if he would have gone against his father’s wishes. Then she remembered Cedric’s father, in shock when he had seen his son’s body, dead.
She looked at the ceiling, fighting the tears she knew were there. This was not life, she thought bitterly, it couldn’t be. Life couldn’t be about having one good life, and one moment ruining it forever, not because someone had done you harm or because you had been targeted, but just because fate had decided to throw you that curveball.
She lowered her head and use a tissue to dab at her eyes, thinking that she didn’t know how much more she could take of this. One moment she was fine, and the next, she had all those memories she had to live with… Putting them in Pensieve would not be an option, as they were too potent and too anchored in her memory to be removed using her wand. She had to learn to live with those, or hope that they would become less damageable. She felt instantly like the most insensitive person on Earth, for complaining when Cedric was dead, Viktor had been under the imperio spell and she had only been hurt, a few scratches and burns, nothing time hadn’t made fade away from her skin. But her soul remained scarred forever.
She heard someone stop next to her desk and she lifted her head. It was the red headed man, except he had his back to her, and he was pretending to be reading something from a paper sheet.
“Chin up,” she heard him whisper, “Bogrod is in a foul mood and making one of us cry would definitely make his day. That thing that plagues you is yours to deal with, but don’t let it give our dear boss a hold on you.”
And he was gone, walking straight ahead as she watched.
She forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths, then put the tissue back in her handbag. Nothing to be seen there.
When Bogrod came at her, yelling, if such a thing could be done by a Goblin, more like rumbling in a deep voice that clearly meant trouble, she was ready and took the lecture without flinching, saying she would do her best for whatever she had done wrong not to happen again. Now to figure out what it was she had done wrong….
She looked on the side, and like the day before, met the man’s eyes from across the room. She nodded at him, and he smiled briefly as he nodded back.
She went back to working, knowing Bogrod was waiting for one of them to look idle to make another comment.
When it was time for lunch, and thus time for her to leave Gringotts, having no business keeping her there longer that day, she looked towards the red haired man, but he was gone already. She sighed but left the bank, going to hunt for something to eat.
The following day was the same, except that she didn’t break down, though sometimes she was still overwhelmed by memories. She would smell something and it would trigger a memory, and she would have to fight her instinctive response, which would have been to flee, no matter how little sense it would make, and to keep on doing what she was doing.
She wondered if she would portkey or floo back home for the week end. It was tempting. She had nobody here, and while the innkeeper was very nice, she was not home. Hell, she wasn’t even somewhere she could somewhat call her own. She thought of her sister, of her parents, of her friends. She thought about going to the beach with her family, pretending like she was not of legal age, or that she was nothing more than her parents’ daughter. It would be nice.
By Thursday noon, she was still not sure if she wanted to go back for the week end. Wouldn’t it be like admitting defeat? Then again, who was supposed to be judging her? Her parents would support her, no matter what she did. She had spoken to them through floo channel the day before and they had been their perfect self, or perfect in her eyes. They had told her how proud they were about her decision to work in London and at Hogwarts, while making her feel that she was still welcome any day any moment really back home if she wanted to.
She grabbed her handbag, and left her desk for the day. She went out of Gringotts and went to one of the pub she had noticed the previous days. She ordered some Fish & Chips, and took them to go. She searched for a place to go when she spotted a fountain. As she got closer, she saw him. The red haired man. She realized that she still didn’t know his first name. She had not made a friend amongst her colleagues so she had nobody to tell her. She wondered what she should do: she really wanted to go to him and say hello, but she had been there almost a week already and they hadn’t interacted except for the time he had warned her of Bogrod’s temper. However, he was eating, and she didn’t want to intrude. Maybe he didn’t want to speak to her. Maybe he was just a kind soul and he had decided to help her that time and that was it.
“You know, you can sit with me if you want,” she heard, and she blushed as she saw that he had spotted her.
“I don’t want to intrude,” She said with a shy smile, feeling extremely self-conscious of her French accent.
“I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t want you to join me.”
She felt a thrill when he used the verb “want”, and hoped she wasn’t missing on an idiomatic expression, reading too much in words she was learning to use.
She sat down, in front of him, on the edge of the fountain.
She opened her lunch bag and put it in front of her, as if she was sitting at a dining table. He laughed and said:
“I don’t believe fish and chips were meant to be eaten so solemnly.”
“You can take a French girl out of France, but you can’t take France out of the girl,” she said, struggling to come up with the end of that saying, wondering if she was messing it up.
“I’m Bill, by the way,” he said, and the sun caught the fang on his earring.
“Fleur,” she said, holding out her hand.
He wiped his on a napkin and shook it, making her feel all woman and Veela at once.
“I know, I remember you from the Tournament,” he said smiling.
She saw a shadow on his face, this brief cloud, the same way she did whenever she thought of the Tournament.
“I remember you too, you came to visit Harry Potter,” she said, hoping to help them move past his sad reminder.
“I did. How are you liking London?” He asked.
“I haven’t seen much of it. I keep wanting to go out, but when I get back to the Leaky Cauldron, I feel exhausted and I just don’t do anything.”
“You’re staying at the Cauldron?” He asked, still smiling. “It must be expensive after a while, though less than living in London perhaps.”
If he kept on smiling, she would never eat a bite of her dish, she would be too busy smiling back at him.
“Yes. I need to go look for a flat, but I haven’t … I guess I don’t know where to begin…”
“People usually get together and get a flat share together,” he said.
“I know but Papa…”
She looked at his lunch, which had been obviously made at home and brought for the day, and she looked at her fish and chips she would probably only eat a bit of before tossing it. His clothes were nice but looked like they had seen better days though he probably took care of them. She had a feeling that while he earned a good living at Gringotts, Bill came from a family who had not been as rich as hers. She could see it in his clothes, in the way he behaved himself.
“Papa?” He said, urging her to go on.
“Papa… will be paying for the flat I chose, and he believes that I should live on my own, at least until I get to know someone enough to do this flat sharing thing.”
She knew few people could afford to live on their own in London, but her Papa, bless his heart, had told her that if she wanted, he would pay for her to have her own flat and no noisy flatmates who would make her feel unwelcome.
“You don’t have to be ashamed of having money,” he said, still smiling, and she felt herself blush, knowing he must have seen the way she was appraising him.
“Not everybody has money, and it’s not nice to rub it in, is that the right way to say it?” She asked, hoping to distract him.
“Yes, we say that. And you’re right, not everybody has money but you shouldn’t feel ashamed to have some, since you know you’re privileged. I didn’t grow up with much money, as you seem to have guess, but it doesn’t matter to me who has some and who doesn’t. Money put aside, we’re all made the same way. Some are just prettier to look at than others…”
She giggled, and hoped he meant her.
“You know, your fish is dead, and I’m pretty sure your chips have come to terms with the fact that they’re going to be eaten. You should dig in."
She laughed, and took a bite. She offered him some which he took, thanking her.
And then they started talking. She told him about traveling to England, and he told her about Egypt. She told him about her sister, and he told her about his large family, making her laugh more. They exchanged stories about the week they had had. They didn’t mention the fact that he had seen her cry at her desk.
He told her he was 25 and she wondered if he saw her as a kid. She hoped not. She surely didn’t see him as a teenager, and she wanted him to see the woman she was.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” He said.
“You can try, maybe I will answer.” She said coyly.
“I can tell, as everybody who walks by us, that you’re of Veela heritage. Am I wrong?”
She had been so focused on him, she had stopped noticing that she didn’t go unnoticed, but now that he mentioned it, she saw guys looking at her, as usual.
“I am. My mother’s mother, Bonne Maman, she is a Veela. I am a quarter Veela. Is it a problem?”
“No, of course not. I just wanted to …. Nevermind,” he said suddenly, blushing madly, and she smiled at him, wanting to know what he was thinking.
“You can tell me…”
“Maybe later.”
“Ok.”
They talked some more, until he suddenly realized that he was going to be late back to work.
“I won’t see you tomorrow, I’m sent somewhere in Dorset to deal with a situation,” he told her, “but if you want, I can come and help you look for a flat on Saturday? We could meet at the Leaky Cauldron around 2PM? Or you can do whatever you want and forget I asked that…” He said, and once again she wanted to kiss his blushing cheeks.
“I would like that very much, but are you sure it won’t be a bother?”
“It couldn’t be a bother. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Besides, I would hate for someone to try to take advantage of the fact that you’re a foreigner to try and fool you, though I suspect the Veela in you would fascinate anyone…”
“Such a gentleman,” she said.
“I will need you to tell my mother you actually said that, she would believe I was lying if I tried to tell her myself,” he said with a laugh.
“A gentleman can wear a fang as an earring, and have long hair, as long as his manners are perfect. Your mother should know she did a great job raising you,” Fleur said.
“Oh well,” he said.
They both got up, and she wondered what was going on through his head.
He seemed to snap out of it and said:
“I really have to go… Saturday, 2PM, Leaky Cauldron?”
She nodded.
He smiled brightly at her and went back to the bank.
She wouldn’t be flooing home that week end, she thought with a grin.
They went flat hunting, and at first, when one of the flat owners thought they were a couple, Bill told them they were not, much to Fleur’s dismay, who hadn’t been able to think of anybody but him since their lunch. The second time someone made that same mistake, Fleur spoke up, and took Bill’s hand, smiling, and saying that they were indeed dating. He looked at her puzzled, but went with it.
When they got out of the flat, she let go of his hand, and said that she would rather people thought she would be living with a man, just in case someone became overwhelmed by the Veela in her and became dangerous. For the next visit, he put his arm around her shoulder, and kept her close, as the owner explained what he was looking for in a renter.
Fleur wanted to dance when they didn’t part after getting out of that flat, Bill’s arm still around her, and hers around his waist. It felt good. It felt real. She never wanted it to end.
The sixth flat turned out to be the one she went for, and she liked that he liked her choice. She was told she could move in the next week end.
Bill offered her later to help, no matter how meagre her belongings she would have to move.
They spent the following week having lunch together, with her buying something from a shop, while he would always bring lunch, usually leftovers from the meal his mother had cooked the day before. He told her that he had decided to move back to London, after the Tournament and what had happened, because he wanted to be close to his family, in case anything would happen, and she squeezed his hand in understanding.
She told him about how Bonne Maman had met the only wizard who was immune to her magical abilities. In the end, he hadn’t been immune, but he had decided that he wouldn’t fall for something that was just magic.
“Bonne Maman was so mad, but she was also madly in love. People were falling over her all the time, and Bon Papa treated her like he couldn’t see that she was a Veela. She ended up courted him I think, if one can call it that. She decided she would marry him, and she made him see things her way. She was everywhere, she was the only woman he could see. Bon Papa told me that he couldn’t tell if he would be the flavour of the month or more, but when she first told him about how cute their children they would have would be, he had known she really wanted and loved him.”
“I can sympathize with your Bon Papa, Veelas are so beautiful, you want to believe they can only see you, but nothing can assure you that it is the case.” Bill had said blushing slightly.
“Well, this Veela sees only one man here, and his name is William,” Fleur said, her French accent coming back as it did every time she wanted to flirt or was too stressed.
“Lucky guy,” Bill said. “Do I know him?”
She slapped his arm and he kissed her, then and there.
She didn’t floo back home that week end either.
She did go back the following week end, and Charlotte and Gabrielle gushed over the stories she told them, about how Bill had taken her to see the muggle London. He had known nothing about it, and they had been two tourists in the crowd, discovering things together.
She thought of him all week end long, and when she came back on Monday morning, he gave her a look, that told him that he had thought about her just as much.
She went to fetch some supplies in a closet, and as she was exiting, he carefully pushed her back in, with that naughty smile on his face. He had kissed her and she had laughed, running her hands through his long hair. She missed all of him, and she had missed this, these moments, these things she knew about him and that she could use to her advantage.
She had gotten out of the closet five minutes later, and her lips had been the colour of cherries, like she was wearing lipstick, which she wasn’t.
He helped her move in, and he went with her when she went shopping to furnish her new place. She pretended to bribe him with a French meal, but she knew that even without that offer, he would have helped her anyway.
Back to the present
It has been six weeks since their first kiss, and she had cooked him dinner as often as she could. She knew he valued his time with his family, and she couldn’t have him all to herself all the time. She wondered when she would meet them, then thought that perhaps, they weren’t there yet. She had never been in a serious relationship before, and she wasn’t even sure if this was a serious relationship. All she knew was that she was in love with him. It was so cliché, but it was true. When she had seen her Maman, it had been the first thing her mother had commented on:
“You look like a woman in love”
She had looked at herself in the mirror, wondering what it meant, what gave away what she was feeling, and had found nothing. Maybe it wasn’t for her eyes to see.
She watched Bill across the room, and wondered if they were dating, casually or if they were somewhere further down the line. She just didn’t know.
She thought about that making out session they had had a couple of night ago, when he had caressed her breasts and she had kissed his chest. They hadn’t gone further, but it had already felt intense and she couldn’t wait for it to happen again. She thought about them having sex, making love perhaps, and she found herself longing for it. Whether it was sex or love, she was on board with that. In the meantime, she supposed she had no other choice but to go with the flow.
A paper flew to her desk, and she unwrapped it, laughing at his caricature of their boss.
She was free, and carefree, for the first time in so long. She made a silent prayer, wanting it to last, and wanting him to keep on being in her life as long as possible.
Ash/Slytherin/125 points(maxed ou)