Gemstones of Gringott's
In a corner of Gringott’s main hall, Chargog’s tiny wood and leather chair sat vacant and pushed out from the desk. Bill Weasley sighed and shifted standing legs.
He’d been eager to pose his rookie suggestion of transferring a small team of magical miners from Madagaskar to Barundi to investigate the rumors of ruby hordes there to old Chargog, Gringott’s resident gem expert. Bill had heard whisperings over games of poker--mostly from traffickers who’d tipped back one too many a bottle in Luxor's bars--and now, newly reassigned to an office job in London, it was something he thought he might follow up on…
Had Chargog been called over by the tellers to examine yet another hocked cabochon?
Bill half-expected to spot the old prune-face with a monocle stuffed in his right eye as he cast his gaze toward the acrid-faced tellers dealing shrewdly in Galleons and Knuts across the highly polished marble counter. Instead, he spotted her again.
Tall and lithe, she floated in from a side door. Her pale blue robes fluttered about her waist and legs in a way that gave his imagination something to work with as she made her way towards an old grey filing cabinet against the back wall. She clicked the lock and peered coolly inside; long strands of silver-blond hair trailed down her back; several spilled over her shoulders.
Fleur Delacour. Beauxbatons.
He knew that much from watching Harry in the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. She wasn’t the sort of woman one overlooked, but he’d dismissed her as a school girl back then.
Not so yesterday, when he’d spied her again for the first time, having come into the bank to file his expense reports, freshly returned from his last curse-breaking assignment in Luxor, still covered in dust, hair tangled and wild. Old Vodlok liked to pore over his expenses longer than necessary before returning his money. While normally this gave Bill cause to want to sigh impatiently, this time, it had given him a chance to watch her.
And unless he was much mistaken, she’d been watching him too.
Today, freshly shaven, his clean hair tied back, and clutching a set of scrolls, Bill made his decision…
She failed to notice as he strode up. Her long fingers busily teased the tabs of old records in the drawer, a row of frown lines pleating her forehead. Bill came to a stop off to one side as she pulled another file folder and whispered the title to herself. He watched her lips work around the words.
“Absolument ridicule,” she muttered with a alluring touch of disdain. She abruptly stuffed the file back in.
An amused grin slid across Bill’s face. After years of working at Gringott's, he knew the place had its trials.
“Something amiss?” he asked, gesturing.
Fleur’s gaze jumped towards him; she momentarily stared, mouth slightly parted, brows plunged into a pretty vee.
“Excooze me?” she demanded quickly, brows still frozen in place.
Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken her by surprise like that…
'Be a gentleman!' his mother’s voice cawed.
Bill thrust a hand forward. “Bill Weasley. I noticed you’re new at the bank.”
Fleur momentarily eyed his hand with lofty confusion, but her expression softened as she turned to shake it.
"Fleur Delacour," she exchanged, in an altogether different pronunciation than the one he would have chosen. Her soft, delicate fingers slid across his own for the handshake. Once their hands had parted, he felt her eyes pore over his facial features just long enough to betray her interest.
No, he hadn’t been mistaken.
As if sensing his discovery, she hastily threw a glance back at the file cabinet. “All of zese files are out of order!” she huffed and gestured impatiently.
Bill adopted a mulling expression. “Hmmmm…That doesn’t sound like the goblins. We must have had a bad intern at some point.”
She stared anew. “And what do you do ‘ere, Beel?” she asked.
"Well, I was a curse breaker in Luxor up until now-“ Fleur raised her brows at this, “-but I needed to come home to help my family, so now I’m an understudy to old Chargog, the gem expert.”
“Ah, but you must bee very brave!” she ventured throatily. “Deed you go eento zee tooombs?” she asked, blue eyes going wide.
“Yes, yes, I did." Crikey, he sounded like his father. "Manticores and all," he grinned. That's better. Confidence, Weasley. "But if you ask me, tomb raiding isn’t entirely different than participating in the Tri-Wizard Tournament-“
“Zee Tri-Wizard Tournament?” interrupted Fleur. “You know about zis?”
Bill nodded. “My brother’s friend, Harry Potter, was one of the Champions last year, so I came to watch,” he explained. Fleur was following his words very closely. “You did a good job with the tasks,” he said, giving a pronounced nod. “Anyway,” he gestured, “that’s a lot what occupational curse-breaking is like.”
“So you attended ‘Ogwarts?” Fleur asked, adopting a conversational flair.
“Yes, I was Head Boy a few years back.”
She swept her gaze over him appraisingly from head to toe. “You do not looook like a boy anymore.” Any other woman would have sealed such an approval with a wink, but she kept a remarkably straight face.
Bill grinned appreciatively. “No… old enough to have a job here and… take women to lunch.”
“Women?” Fleur questioned quickly.
Apparently, her English was good enough to spot a suspicious plural.
Bill smiled again, hoping to disarm her for his mistake. “Well no, just you, if you’d like to go to lunch with me today.”
Her mouth gave way to an easy smile. “I would like zat very much.”
Suddenly, a goblin tapped at her leg. Fleur turned to reach down for a file he was handing her. As she did so, a silver-blond sheet of hair swung over her shoulder, sending a wave of infatuation cascading through his chest.
Bill eyed the sheet as it settled into place on her bent back. Mercury. Certainly it exhibited the properties of a liquid… Of course, he knew she was part Veela; Rita Skeeter had mentioned it no less than ten times in her coverage of the tournament.
“Yes, I will take zat too,” Fleur grabbed the file from the goblin, who waddled off. “Zey are sooo rude sometimes, zese goblins!”
Bill answered with an easy laugh. “Well, please tell me all about it over lunch.” He glanced over his shoulder at the retreating goblin and noticed old Chargog had taken his seat at the desk in the corner again.
“I will do zat, Beel Weasley,” Fleur smiled and nodded affirmatively.
And as he turned in the direction of Chargog's desk, Bill had the distinct feeling that she watched him walk away, too.
He’d been eager to pose his rookie suggestion of transferring a small team of magical miners from Madagaskar to Barundi to investigate the rumors of ruby hordes there to old Chargog, Gringott’s resident gem expert. Bill had heard whisperings over games of poker--mostly from traffickers who’d tipped back one too many a bottle in Luxor's bars--and now, newly reassigned to an office job in London, it was something he thought he might follow up on…
Had Chargog been called over by the tellers to examine yet another hocked cabochon?
Bill half-expected to spot the old prune-face with a monocle stuffed in his right eye as he cast his gaze toward the acrid-faced tellers dealing shrewdly in Galleons and Knuts across the highly polished marble counter. Instead, he spotted her again.
Tall and lithe, she floated in from a side door. Her pale blue robes fluttered about her waist and legs in a way that gave his imagination something to work with as she made her way towards an old grey filing cabinet against the back wall. She clicked the lock and peered coolly inside; long strands of silver-blond hair trailed down her back; several spilled over her shoulders.
Fleur Delacour. Beauxbatons.
He knew that much from watching Harry in the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. She wasn’t the sort of woman one overlooked, but he’d dismissed her as a school girl back then.
Not so yesterday, when he’d spied her again for the first time, having come into the bank to file his expense reports, freshly returned from his last curse-breaking assignment in Luxor, still covered in dust, hair tangled and wild. Old Vodlok liked to pore over his expenses longer than necessary before returning his money. While normally this gave Bill cause to want to sigh impatiently, this time, it had given him a chance to watch her.
And unless he was much mistaken, she’d been watching him too.
Today, freshly shaven, his clean hair tied back, and clutching a set of scrolls, Bill made his decision…
She failed to notice as he strode up. Her long fingers busily teased the tabs of old records in the drawer, a row of frown lines pleating her forehead. Bill came to a stop off to one side as she pulled another file folder and whispered the title to herself. He watched her lips work around the words.
“Absolument ridicule,” she muttered with a alluring touch of disdain. She abruptly stuffed the file back in.
An amused grin slid across Bill’s face. After years of working at Gringott's, he knew the place had its trials.
“Something amiss?” he asked, gesturing.
Fleur’s gaze jumped towards him; she momentarily stared, mouth slightly parted, brows plunged into a pretty vee.
“Excooze me?” she demanded quickly, brows still frozen in place.
Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken her by surprise like that…
'Be a gentleman!' his mother’s voice cawed.
Bill thrust a hand forward. “Bill Weasley. I noticed you’re new at the bank.”
Fleur momentarily eyed his hand with lofty confusion, but her expression softened as she turned to shake it.
"Fleur Delacour," she exchanged, in an altogether different pronunciation than the one he would have chosen. Her soft, delicate fingers slid across his own for the handshake. Once their hands had parted, he felt her eyes pore over his facial features just long enough to betray her interest.
No, he hadn’t been mistaken.
As if sensing his discovery, she hastily threw a glance back at the file cabinet. “All of zese files are out of order!” she huffed and gestured impatiently.
Bill adopted a mulling expression. “Hmmmm…That doesn’t sound like the goblins. We must have had a bad intern at some point.”
She stared anew. “And what do you do ‘ere, Beel?” she asked.
"Well, I was a curse breaker in Luxor up until now-“ Fleur raised her brows at this, “-but I needed to come home to help my family, so now I’m an understudy to old Chargog, the gem expert.”
“Ah, but you must bee very brave!” she ventured throatily. “Deed you go eento zee tooombs?” she asked, blue eyes going wide.
“Yes, yes, I did." Crikey, he sounded like his father. "Manticores and all," he grinned. That's better. Confidence, Weasley. "But if you ask me, tomb raiding isn’t entirely different than participating in the Tri-Wizard Tournament-“
“Zee Tri-Wizard Tournament?” interrupted Fleur. “You know about zis?”
Bill nodded. “My brother’s friend, Harry Potter, was one of the Champions last year, so I came to watch,” he explained. Fleur was following his words very closely. “You did a good job with the tasks,” he said, giving a pronounced nod. “Anyway,” he gestured, “that’s a lot what occupational curse-breaking is like.”
“So you attended ‘Ogwarts?” Fleur asked, adopting a conversational flair.
“Yes, I was Head Boy a few years back.”
She swept her gaze over him appraisingly from head to toe. “You do not looook like a boy anymore.” Any other woman would have sealed such an approval with a wink, but she kept a remarkably straight face.
Bill grinned appreciatively. “No… old enough to have a job here and… take women to lunch.”
“Women?” Fleur questioned quickly.
Apparently, her English was good enough to spot a suspicious plural.
Bill smiled again, hoping to disarm her for his mistake. “Well no, just you, if you’d like to go to lunch with me today.”
Her mouth gave way to an easy smile. “I would like zat very much.”
Suddenly, a goblin tapped at her leg. Fleur turned to reach down for a file he was handing her. As she did so, a silver-blond sheet of hair swung over her shoulder, sending a wave of infatuation cascading through his chest.
Bill eyed the sheet as it settled into place on her bent back. Mercury. Certainly it exhibited the properties of a liquid… Of course, he knew she was part Veela; Rita Skeeter had mentioned it no less than ten times in her coverage of the tournament.
“Yes, I will take zat too,” Fleur grabbed the file from the goblin, who waddled off. “Zey are sooo rude sometimes, zese goblins!”
Bill answered with an easy laugh. “Well, please tell me all about it over lunch.” He glanced over his shoulder at the retreating goblin and noticed old Chargog had taken his seat at the desk in the corner again.
“I will do zat, Beel Weasley,” Fleur smiled and nodded affirmatively.
And as he turned in the direction of Chargog's desk, Bill had the distinct feeling that she watched him walk away, too.