Leigh&Elisabeth!Fic- Take A Chance On Me (1/1)- Bill/Fleur
Category: Harry Potter Fic
Title: Take A Chance On Me (1/1)
Authors:
leigh_adams & pyrobear
Characters: Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour
Rating: Any age
Summary: The pampered French princess meets the eldest Weasley offspring at Gringotts.
Fleur's heels clicked lightly on the marbled floor of Gringotts as she made her way through the main hall towards the lifts. It was a dreary, rainy November morning, and not for the first time, she found herself wondering why she'd ever left France. London was disgusting, especially in the winter, and the food was terrible.
Pressing the button for the International Finance office, she let her mind wander. Oh, what she wouldn't give for a hot, buttery croissant and a steaming bowl of café au lait in the Parisian morning sunshine. Marie-Christine had written her, imploring her to move back to Paris. She'd just taken a job as an apprentice to an up-and-coming designer, she'd said, and there was a job waiting for Fleur should she choose to take it.
She'd give it another week or so, though. It was true, she need to improve her English, but surely she could do that back home? English weather, English food, English men... it was all so blah and monotonous.
The lift doors opened to signal her arrival, and with a small sigh, she exited the lift and made her way to her desk.
"Listen you insignificant putz," Bill towered over the little man he was forced to talk with whenever he had to deal with the International Finance office. "I don't particularly care about your rules and regulations. There are cursebreakers who currently need the supplies you are currently depriving."
Fleur's ears perked up the tiniest bit when she saw a tall man giving Mr. Kathman a piece of his mind. Bien, she thought. The man was a complete idiot, in her humble opinion, and needed to be put in his place. Hopefully she'd be able to bypass the pair without being sucked into whatever argument was currently taking place.
"Now." Bill dropped the stack of papers onto the desk. "You are going to sign off on these acquisitions, with a smile." He leaned down, flicking his hair over his shoulder, his scuffed boots coming within inches of Kathman's shiny and polished shoes. "Or I will know why," he hissed.
"You don't scare me, Mr.Weasley," Will Kathman growled up at the younger man. "Keep this up and I'll be reporting your attitude to your superiors."
Bill raised an eyebrow. "Of course," he murmured, taking a step back. "But then again, I'm sure they'd love to know why some of their best men and woman are being disabled in the field. In fact, I'm sure your superiors would love to know as well."
Her heels echoed a bit too loudly for comfort along the tiled floor as she side-stepped the testosterone battle going on by Kathman's desk. Two more weeks, she thought, and if her outlook on life in England hadn't improved, then she'd go back to Paris. No more mundane financiers, no more dreary English foods and weak coffee, no more bad fashion. She sighed softly as she passed by the two men, thankful that Kathman hadn't felt the need to drag her into their little standoff.
"Fine, you're not going to help me, I'll get someone else." Bill whirled away from Kathman's desk, intent on finding his next victim, er, someone who would help him. He spotted a pretty blonde walking down the aisle. "Hey, princess."
As much as Fleur liked being referred to as a princess, the tone of voice he'd said it in did not sit well with her. "Excusez moi?" she asked as she turned around, lifting one blonde brow at the redheaded man. "Can I 'elp you?"
He smiled at her somewhat familiar face. "You work in International Finance, which means you have the power to approve my request. Do it so I can get back to pretending like I care about my desk job." Perhaps he could submit the request and bugger down to Research. They always had something he could tinker with down there. "What do you say, Princess?"
"Hmm," she said, pretending to consider his request, "I would say zat if you were looking for someone to 'elp you, you might try saying 'please.'" She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, quickly moving back to her desk.
"Hey, hey, hey." Bill broke into a light jog, catching up to her. "Please? Come on. I'm asking on the behalf of friends out in the field. If you don't like me, fine, but don't screw them over. Please?" He flashed her another grin.
Fleur pursed her lips, but held her hand out for the papers. "Donnez moi."
He handed the papers over. "Thanks, princess." He gave her a once over. "Say, don't you look familiar?"
"And you do not," she said, glancing over the papers. It was the usual requests for fees and supplies to be sent to the field. Only... "You 'ave made a mistake," she said.
"What?" Bill grabbed the papers back from her. "That's impossible. You must have made the mistake."
"Moi? 'Ow, exactly, can I 'ave made ze mistake when zis is ze first time I 'ave ever seen zese papers!" she said, blue eyes flashing with irritation. "See?" she said, grabbing the paper in question from him and pointing to a column of figures.
He snarled at her, but looked again. "You're right. I apologize."
"C'était convaincante," she muttered as she set her Hermès handbag down next to her desk chair. "'Ave 'ooever drew zese up fix ze mistake and get it back before five o'clock and I will sign off on it."
"Thank you." He gave her an honest smile. "May I have your name?"
"Fleur Delacour," she replied. "And you are?"
"Fleur Delacour," he let the name roll off his tongue, savoring it. "Bill Weasley." He held out a hand.
She placed her hand in his and shook it. "C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer," she said.
"I insist the pleasure is all mine." He lifted her hand to his lips, a playful grin on his face. "Didn't think I knew French, huh? I understand bits and pieces of a bastardized dialect."
She shrugged. "I insinuated nothing of ze sort," she said, lips curling up in the tiniest hint of a smile.
"But you might have been thinking it." He let go of her hand. "By five o'clock?"
"Please," Fleur nodded.
"Then you will have it by five." His eyes twinkled in merriment. "Then what do you say we grab something for a late tea?"
Fleur raised an eyebrow at him. This was certainly unexpected, although not entirely unwelcome. He was handsome and young, with a nice smile. What harm could it do? "D'accord," she said. It was just tea, after all, not a marriage proposal.
Title: Take A Chance On Me (1/1)
Authors:
leigh_adams & pyrobear
Characters: Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour
Rating: Any age
Summary: The pampered French princess meets the eldest Weasley offspring at Gringotts.
Fleur's heels clicked lightly on the marbled floor of Gringotts as she made her way through the main hall towards the lifts. It was a dreary, rainy November morning, and not for the first time, she found herself wondering why she'd ever left France. London was disgusting, especially in the winter, and the food was terrible.
Pressing the button for the International Finance office, she let her mind wander. Oh, what she wouldn't give for a hot, buttery croissant and a steaming bowl of café au lait in the Parisian morning sunshine. Marie-Christine had written her, imploring her to move back to Paris. She'd just taken a job as an apprentice to an up-and-coming designer, she'd said, and there was a job waiting for Fleur should she choose to take it.
She'd give it another week or so, though. It was true, she need to improve her English, but surely she could do that back home? English weather, English food, English men... it was all so blah and monotonous.
The lift doors opened to signal her arrival, and with a small sigh, she exited the lift and made her way to her desk.
"Listen you insignificant putz," Bill towered over the little man he was forced to talk with whenever he had to deal with the International Finance office. "I don't particularly care about your rules and regulations. There are cursebreakers who currently need the supplies you are currently depriving."
Fleur's ears perked up the tiniest bit when she saw a tall man giving Mr. Kathman a piece of his mind. Bien, she thought. The man was a complete idiot, in her humble opinion, and needed to be put in his place. Hopefully she'd be able to bypass the pair without being sucked into whatever argument was currently taking place.
"Now." Bill dropped the stack of papers onto the desk. "You are going to sign off on these acquisitions, with a smile." He leaned down, flicking his hair over his shoulder, his scuffed boots coming within inches of Kathman's shiny and polished shoes. "Or I will know why," he hissed.
"You don't scare me, Mr.Weasley," Will Kathman growled up at the younger man. "Keep this up and I'll be reporting your attitude to your superiors."
Bill raised an eyebrow. "Of course," he murmured, taking a step back. "But then again, I'm sure they'd love to know why some of their best men and woman are being disabled in the field. In fact, I'm sure your superiors would love to know as well."
Her heels echoed a bit too loudly for comfort along the tiled floor as she side-stepped the testosterone battle going on by Kathman's desk. Two more weeks, she thought, and if her outlook on life in England hadn't improved, then she'd go back to Paris. No more mundane financiers, no more dreary English foods and weak coffee, no more bad fashion. She sighed softly as she passed by the two men, thankful that Kathman hadn't felt the need to drag her into their little standoff.
"Fine, you're not going to help me, I'll get someone else." Bill whirled away from Kathman's desk, intent on finding his next victim, er, someone who would help him. He spotted a pretty blonde walking down the aisle. "Hey, princess."
As much as Fleur liked being referred to as a princess, the tone of voice he'd said it in did not sit well with her. "Excusez moi?" she asked as she turned around, lifting one blonde brow at the redheaded man. "Can I 'elp you?"
He smiled at her somewhat familiar face. "You work in International Finance, which means you have the power to approve my request. Do it so I can get back to pretending like I care about my desk job." Perhaps he could submit the request and bugger down to Research. They always had something he could tinker with down there. "What do you say, Princess?"
"Hmm," she said, pretending to consider his request, "I would say zat if you were looking for someone to 'elp you, you might try saying 'please.'" She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, quickly moving back to her desk.
"Hey, hey, hey." Bill broke into a light jog, catching up to her. "Please? Come on. I'm asking on the behalf of friends out in the field. If you don't like me, fine, but don't screw them over. Please?" He flashed her another grin.
Fleur pursed her lips, but held her hand out for the papers. "Donnez moi."
He handed the papers over. "Thanks, princess." He gave her a once over. "Say, don't you look familiar?"
"And you do not," she said, glancing over the papers. It was the usual requests for fees and supplies to be sent to the field. Only... "You 'ave made a mistake," she said.
"What?" Bill grabbed the papers back from her. "That's impossible. You must have made the mistake."
"Moi? 'Ow, exactly, can I 'ave made ze mistake when zis is ze first time I 'ave ever seen zese papers!" she said, blue eyes flashing with irritation. "See?" she said, grabbing the paper in question from him and pointing to a column of figures.
He snarled at her, but looked again. "You're right. I apologize."
"C'était convaincante," she muttered as she set her Hermès handbag down next to her desk chair. "'Ave 'ooever drew zese up fix ze mistake and get it back before five o'clock and I will sign off on it."
"Thank you." He gave her an honest smile. "May I have your name?"
"Fleur Delacour," she replied. "And you are?"
"Fleur Delacour," he let the name roll off his tongue, savoring it. "Bill Weasley." He held out a hand.
She placed her hand in his and shook it. "C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer," she said.
"I insist the pleasure is all mine." He lifted her hand to his lips, a playful grin on his face. "Didn't think I knew French, huh? I understand bits and pieces of a bastardized dialect."
She shrugged. "I insinuated nothing of ze sort," she said, lips curling up in the tiniest hint of a smile.
"But you might have been thinking it." He let go of her hand. "By five o'clock?"
"Please," Fleur nodded.
"Then you will have it by five." His eyes twinkled in merriment. "Then what do you say we grab something for a late tea?"
Fleur raised an eyebrow at him. This was certainly unexpected, although not entirely unwelcome. He was handsome and young, with a nice smile. What harm could it do? "D'accord," she said. It was just tea, after all, not a marriage proposal.