There is no better friend than a sister
Y'all know the drill. Hover cursors to see the English!
It was a cool night at Shell Cottage; cool and quiet. At half past eight, Claire and Tristian were already asleep in their beds, having been tucked in after a story -- or three -- from their Tante Gabi. With Bill back in Egypt, Gabrielle had taken to spending a night or so a week with her sister, helping her take care of her niece and nephew and generally being there for companionship. It was the main reason she’d moved to England: to be close to her sister. She was taking full advantage of it.
A half-forgotten glass of wine sat on the table between the two. Fleur had declined her own glass, which confused her sister... until the older Delacour had shared her news.
“Enceinte.” Gabrielle’s tone was thoughtful as she blew out a plume of smoke -- thoughtfully downwind from her sister. Fleur had given up smoking for the most part after marrying Bill, but the sisters did occasionally still share a cigarette. Of course, they couldn’t now, nor could they share a bottle of wine. Not until the newest Weasley was born.
“Enceinte,” Fleur replied thoughtfully, tugging her comfortable fleece throw closer to her body. She tucked her legs beneath her and leaned back into the soft cushion beneath her body, watching as her sister took another long, slow drag on her Gauloise. “C’était une surprise.”
Gabrielle nodded and shifted, crossing her long legs at the ankles. “Qu-est ce que Bill a dit?” There was no need to ask if her brother-in-law knew; he would have been the first, even if he was in Egypt.
There were times she was a bit cross with the older redhead for returning to his old post as a cursebreaker with the wizarding bank, but she could understand (somewhat). She just saw how hard it was on her sister to be parted from her husband; it had been difficult before Claire was born. It was especially so now with two babies -- and another on the way.
“Il est ravi, bien sûr” Picking up her bottle of Evian, Fleur took a small sip and sighed. “Bien entendu, on ne s’attendait pas que cela se produise si peu de temps.”
“Quand est-ce qu’il rentre?” It was not a question of if he would be coming home. Bill would come home -- and soon. Or she and her Louboutins would be forced to traipse to Egypt and drag him back by his ponytail.
“Bien sür,” her sister replied, looking slightly offended at the insinuation that he wouldn’t. “Il sera à la maison en deux semaines. Il y aura des missions courtes, bien sûr, mais il envisage un transfert à les ruines Celtique dans la nord en lieu d’Egypte.”
“Je suis sûr qu’ils le feront.”
Gabrielle sighed and took another puff on her cigarette. She loved her life; her career was taking off at a break-neck speed, she was -- for once -- in an actual relationship, and she was happy. But betimes, she found herself envious of her sister’s domestic bliss. Of course, she didn’t particularly want that sort of life. Not yet. She was only twenty-two, and even though she was older than her sister had been when she’d been married, it was hard to imagine herself as a wife and mother.
Maybe it wasn’t in the stars for her. Not everyone was destined to have a family.
“Tu est silencieux ce soir,” Fleur remarked, her bright blue eyes peering at her sister through the dim light of the back garden. “Qu-est que ne va pas?”
“Rien.” She shook her head and reached for her wine, taking a sip. The rich flavor of the burgundy trickled over her palate, warming her insides. “Je pensais.”
Fleur quirked her head. “À quoi?” A hint of mirth crept into her gaze, and her lips twitched. “Ton amoureux?”
She snorted and smiled. “Peut-être,” she admitted. “Si nous avons qualifié ça comme une rapport.”
“Pouquoi pas?”
The younger Delacour lifted her shoulder and shrugged. “Je ne sais pas,” she admitted. Lifting her cigarette to her lips, she inhaled and paused for a long moment. Exhaling a cloud of blue smoke, she continued. “Nous voyons les uns les autres chaque fois que je me suis dans le pays. C’est juste....”
“Juste quoi?” Her brows furrowed with confusion. Her sister was a beautiful, extraordinary woman; young, and she liked to have her fun, but she was a good person. Any man would be lucky to have her, and it sounded like Gabrielle was unsure of her lover’s affections. “Quel est son nom, encore?”
“Il s’appelle Neil. Il est un avocat, comme Papa” Her lips curled at the name. “Il est bien à moi, Fleur. Je viens de...,” she trailed off in thought. It was quiet for a moment until Fleur coughed, bringing her attention back to the conversation. “Je ne comprends pourquoi il n’a pas essayé d’avoir des relations sexuelles avec moi.”
Her sister choked on the sip of water she’d just taken, eyes watering. “Combien de temps as-tu été ensemble?” she asked.
“Presque un an,” Gabrielle said absently. “Encour, si nous avons qualifié ça comme une rapport.”
“Et encore, pourquoi pas?
“Parce-que nous n’avons des... je ne sais pas, définitions.” Gabrielle sighed and took another sip of burgundy. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Neil wanted her. She could recognize the signs of desire, and they were all there. But no matter how she signaled that she was very open to the idea of sex with him, he would not give in.
Fleur nodded slowly. It hadn’t been much the same at the beginning of her relationship with Bill. They’d slept together on the first date -- and it had worked out beautifully. “Tu as fait des autres choses, bien que, non?”
Her sister also nodded, a small smirk pulling at her lips. “Oui, oui nous avons.”
She didn’t need elaboration. “Donc,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “Si tu veux, inviter lui à diner.” She met her sister’s gaze and smiled knowingly. “Je peux mieux jauger sa valeur si je lui vois en personne.”
Gabrielle gave a most unladylike snort. “On verra, ma soeur. On verra bien..”
Summary: Fleur and Gabrielle have some sisterly bonding at Shell Cottage.
It was a cool night at Shell Cottage; cool and quiet. At half past eight, Claire and Tristian were already asleep in their beds, having been tucked in after a story -- or three -- from their Tante Gabi. With Bill back in Egypt, Gabrielle had taken to spending a night or so a week with her sister, helping her take care of her niece and nephew and generally being there for companionship. It was the main reason she’d moved to England: to be close to her sister. She was taking full advantage of it.
A half-forgotten glass of wine sat on the table between the two. Fleur had declined her own glass, which confused her sister... until the older Delacour had shared her news.
“Enceinte.” Gabrielle’s tone was thoughtful as she blew out a plume of smoke -- thoughtfully downwind from her sister. Fleur had given up smoking for the most part after marrying Bill, but the sisters did occasionally still share a cigarette. Of course, they couldn’t now, nor could they share a bottle of wine. Not until the newest Weasley was born.
“Enceinte,” Fleur replied thoughtfully, tugging her comfortable fleece throw closer to her body. She tucked her legs beneath her and leaned back into the soft cushion beneath her body, watching as her sister took another long, slow drag on her Gauloise. “C’était une surprise.”
Gabrielle nodded and shifted, crossing her long legs at the ankles. “Qu-est ce que Bill a dit?” There was no need to ask if her brother-in-law knew; he would have been the first, even if he was in Egypt.
There were times she was a bit cross with the older redhead for returning to his old post as a cursebreaker with the wizarding bank, but she could understand (somewhat). She just saw how hard it was on her sister to be parted from her husband; it had been difficult before Claire was born. It was especially so now with two babies -- and another on the way.
“Il est ravi, bien sûr” Picking up her bottle of Evian, Fleur took a small sip and sighed. “Bien entendu, on ne s’attendait pas que cela se produise si peu de temps.”
“Quand est-ce qu’il rentre?” It was not a question of if he would be coming home. Bill would come home -- and soon. Or she and her Louboutins would be forced to traipse to Egypt and drag him back by his ponytail.
“Bien sür,” her sister replied, looking slightly offended at the insinuation that he wouldn’t. “Il sera à la maison en deux semaines. Il y aura des missions courtes, bien sûr, mais il envisage un transfert à les ruines Celtique dans la nord en lieu d’Egypte.”
“Je suis sûr qu’ils le feront.”
Gabrielle sighed and took another puff on her cigarette. She loved her life; her career was taking off at a break-neck speed, she was -- for once -- in an actual relationship, and she was happy. But betimes, she found herself envious of her sister’s domestic bliss. Of course, she didn’t particularly want that sort of life. Not yet. She was only twenty-two, and even though she was older than her sister had been when she’d been married, it was hard to imagine herself as a wife and mother.
Maybe it wasn’t in the stars for her. Not everyone was destined to have a family.
“Tu est silencieux ce soir,” Fleur remarked, her bright blue eyes peering at her sister through the dim light of the back garden. “Qu-est que ne va pas?”
“Rien.” She shook her head and reached for her wine, taking a sip. The rich flavor of the burgundy trickled over her palate, warming her insides. “Je pensais.”
Fleur quirked her head. “À quoi?” A hint of mirth crept into her gaze, and her lips twitched. “Ton amoureux?”
She snorted and smiled. “Peut-être,” she admitted. “Si nous avons qualifié ça comme une rapport.”
“Pouquoi pas?”
The younger Delacour lifted her shoulder and shrugged. “Je ne sais pas,” she admitted. Lifting her cigarette to her lips, she inhaled and paused for a long moment. Exhaling a cloud of blue smoke, she continued. “Nous voyons les uns les autres chaque fois que je me suis dans le pays. C’est juste....”
“Juste quoi?” Her brows furrowed with confusion. Her sister was a beautiful, extraordinary woman; young, and she liked to have her fun, but she was a good person. Any man would be lucky to have her, and it sounded like Gabrielle was unsure of her lover’s affections. “Quel est son nom, encore?”
“Il s’appelle Neil. Il est un avocat, comme Papa” Her lips curled at the name. “Il est bien à moi, Fleur. Je viens de...,” she trailed off in thought. It was quiet for a moment until Fleur coughed, bringing her attention back to the conversation. “Je ne comprends pourquoi il n’a pas essayé d’avoir des relations sexuelles avec moi.”
Her sister choked on the sip of water she’d just taken, eyes watering. “Combien de temps as-tu été ensemble?” she asked.
“Presque un an,” Gabrielle said absently. “Encour, si nous avons qualifié ça comme une rapport.”
“Et encore, pourquoi pas?
“Parce-que nous n’avons des... je ne sais pas, définitions.” Gabrielle sighed and took another sip of burgundy. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Neil wanted her. She could recognize the signs of desire, and they were all there. But no matter how she signaled that she was very open to the idea of sex with him, he would not give in.
Fleur nodded slowly. It hadn’t been much the same at the beginning of her relationship with Bill. They’d slept together on the first date -- and it had worked out beautifully. “Tu as fait des autres choses, bien que, non?”
Her sister also nodded, a small smirk pulling at her lips. “Oui, oui nous avons.”
She didn’t need elaboration. “Donc,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “Si tu veux, inviter lui à diner.” She met her sister’s gaze and smiled knowingly. “Je peux mieux jauger sa valeur si je lui vois en personne.”
Gabrielle gave a most unladylike snort. “On verra, ma soeur. On verra bien..”
Summary: Fleur and Gabrielle have some sisterly bonding at Shell Cottage.