This Woman's Work
Date: April 21, 2005
Characters: Fleur Delacour Weasley, Bill Weasley
Location: Bill and Fleur’s home (Lovegood and South)
Status: Private
Summary: Fleur returns to Stoatshead Hill. She and Bill talk about the many things which are weighing upon them both.
Completion: Complete
It was time.
Fleur stood at the edge of the property to Lovegood and South, looking across the garden to the home she shared with Bill Weasley. Was he there? She could not say. Part of her felt guilty for having been gone so very long, but then a part of her felt a righteous indignation toward her husband. Had he not taken to disappearing as well throughout their marriage, only to lay blame on his affliction? An affliction which he often used to wedge a distance between them? She felt torn, the way she always felt when it came to Bill Weasley.
But now she was tired, both in body and in spirit. She needed rest; she needed closure.
She needed to think about herself...for a change.
“I am good-looking enough for the both of us, I theenk!”
Then she reflected upon a conversation she had long ago with two old friends…
"I know I look nice! Not having my husband around makes me question if the man is blind or mad! Perhaps both!"
"Bill has disappeared again, he is almost like he is married to some stupid person he can forget instead of me!”
“I want him here and he is not, it is no matter if there is a note.”
Always another argument between her ad Bill…
"Well perhaps I have a want for good company instead of being always shouted at!"
Now she had lost their child, lost their baby. If it had not been for her mother Fleur did not know how she would have survived the incident and she was comforted by her mother’s love, her mother’s care. No matter the distance of place and time, the bond between mother and daughter would always be there. Fleur wished that same solace could be possible for little Gabrielle, her little angel, Gabrielle.
“We Veela, we must stand by one another, mon ange,” Fleur spoke to an absent Gabrielle as she opened the gate to her garden. “Eet is what Mère has told me.”
Fleur’s mother had said many things while she cared for her eldest daughter. Many endearments and words of love and support.
“We had only been trying a short while, maman. I did not theenk it would happen so soon. I thought we would ‘ave more time to fix our life together before, before…,” Fleur had cried into her mother’s shoulder. “I did not know, maman. I did not think I would be pregnant so quickly.”
She took in a deep breath as she covered the distance between the gate and the front door to her home. If Bill was there the wards would have already alerted him to her approach. Even if her nerves were screaming to her to run away, she would not get far. So Fleur would have to swallow her apprehension and tell Bill the most difficult thing she had ever had to tell anyone.
She found herself staring at the hand she had placed on the doorknob. Waiting, waiting.
“Ma Déesse! What has become of me?” she quietly chastised herself as her fingers curved around the brass. “I am Fleur Delacour Weasley; not some simpering, pasty-faced little girl!” With a turn of her deceivingly strong hand the door opened and she stepped inside.
“Bill? Bill Weasley? Where are you? Are you home?”
*This Woman's Work by Kate Bush
Characters: Fleur Delacour Weasley, Bill Weasley
Location: Bill and Fleur’s home (Lovegood and South)
Status: Private
Summary: Fleur returns to Stoatshead Hill. She and Bill talk about the many things which are weighing upon them both.
Completion: Complete
It was time.
Fleur stood at the edge of the property to Lovegood and South, looking across the garden to the home she shared with Bill Weasley. Was he there? She could not say. Part of her felt guilty for having been gone so very long, but then a part of her felt a righteous indignation toward her husband. Had he not taken to disappearing as well throughout their marriage, only to lay blame on his affliction? An affliction which he often used to wedge a distance between them? She felt torn, the way she always felt when it came to Bill Weasley.
But now she was tired, both in body and in spirit. She needed rest; she needed closure.
She needed to think about herself...for a change.
“I am good-looking enough for the both of us, I theenk!”
Then she reflected upon a conversation she had long ago with two old friends…
"I know I look nice! Not having my husband around makes me question if the man is blind or mad! Perhaps both!"
"Bill has disappeared again, he is almost like he is married to some stupid person he can forget instead of me!”
“I want him here and he is not, it is no matter if there is a note.”
Always another argument between her ad Bill…
"Well perhaps I have a want for good company instead of being always shouted at!"
Now she had lost their child, lost their baby. If it had not been for her mother Fleur did not know how she would have survived the incident and she was comforted by her mother’s love, her mother’s care. No matter the distance of place and time, the bond between mother and daughter would always be there. Fleur wished that same solace could be possible for little Gabrielle, her little angel, Gabrielle.
“We Veela, we must stand by one another, mon ange,” Fleur spoke to an absent Gabrielle as she opened the gate to her garden. “Eet is what Mère has told me.”
Fleur’s mother had said many things while she cared for her eldest daughter. Many endearments and words of love and support.
“We had only been trying a short while, maman. I did not theenk it would happen so soon. I thought we would ‘ave more time to fix our life together before, before…,” Fleur had cried into her mother’s shoulder. “I did not know, maman. I did not think I would be pregnant so quickly.”
She took in a deep breath as she covered the distance between the gate and the front door to her home. If Bill was there the wards would have already alerted him to her approach. Even if her nerves were screaming to her to run away, she would not get far. So Fleur would have to swallow her apprehension and tell Bill the most difficult thing she had ever had to tell anyone.
She found herself staring at the hand she had placed on the doorknob. Waiting, waiting.
“Ma Déesse! What has become of me?” she quietly chastised herself as her fingers curved around the brass. “I am Fleur Delacour Weasley; not some simpering, pasty-faced little girl!” With a turn of her deceivingly strong hand the door opened and she stepped inside.
“Bill? Bill Weasley? Where are you? Are you home?”
*This Woman's Work by Kate Bush