Fic: The Red Umbrella
Title: The Red Umbrella
Summary: Fleur remained faithful long after her husband went missing.
Word count: 3200
Rating: PG for brief mention of sexual themes, het and femslash
Characters: Fleur, Molly, Charlie, Tonks, Kingsley, and others
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: For /m, in response to the prompt "umbrellas."
Fleur remained faithful long after her husband went missing.
She waited patiently through the riotous, ugly celebrations after Voldemort's defeat; through Percy's grim, quiet funeral; through Hagrid's and Madame Maxime's nuptials; though the long and tedious round of incompetent Ministry trials that seemed more divisive than the war had ever been.
She never doubted, not when Harry went on trial, amidst much speculation and awful, scandalous headlines in the newspaper. Not when Molly and Arthur separated, quietly, several months later. Not when she heard the whispers, which were growing less circumspect by the day: missing and just married and so sad.
Bill would return. This seemed quite clear to Fleur, who hadn't worried much about this little werewolf mission that Bill had departed on so many months ago; everyone knew her husband was quite capable of taking care of himself, thank you. The gentle werewolf Remus Lupin had accompanied him, so he wasn't alone. He wasn't even in Britain, as far as she knew, and that was a good sign, as well.
One hand on Molly Weasley's clock was stuck on "traveling," that was all anyone knew. One day Bill would return, and Fleur would be able to resume the life she had set aside eighteen months ago.
"I am not a child," Fleur said patiently to Molly one night over dinner. "I do not tire of waiting and look for new play things."
"I haven't forgotten Bill," Molly said quietly, reaching out to grasp her hand across the table. "It's just that..."
"What?" Fleur said, glaring. Molly would not meet her eyes.
"You need to move on," Molly said.
"Like you did?" Fleur asked, gesturing around the room where they were eating. They were sitting at a tiny, cheap table in an almost-empty Muggle flat that Molly had rented a few months ago. Their dinner plates were mismatched, and a small bed stood unmade at the far end of the room.
Molly winced. "We're still trying to decide what to do about the Burrow," she said. "You're young, Fleur. You can do better than this."
"I am doing better than this," Fleur said dismissively.
"Fleur," Molly said gently. "Look at yourself."
"I need to go," Fleur said, standing up abruptly. She was out of the flat in an instant, without an apology, without helping with the washing up, without thanking her mother-in-law. Bill would not have been happy.
Outside it was a dark, late-winter evening, wet and slick and muddy, and she huddled under her red umbrella, making the long walk to the empty Burrow so that she could Floo home.
Even Bill's mother did not understand. Ah, the English. Pragmatic to a fault, so ready for compromise. Fleur walked briskly, feet getting wet, blood pounding. No one understood. Fleur was patient, Fleur was strong. Bill would be back.
*
Molly was not so easily put off.
The first time Fleur didn't notice what was happening; they met for dinner at a restaurant in the village, and Molly explained that her cousin was in town, would Fleur mind if he joined them? He was a sad little bald man, an accountant, whatever that was, who was oddly impervious to Fleur's charms and talked at lengths about Molly's precarious finances. Fleur was relieved not to have to make conversation.
Afterward, Molly walked her back to the Burrow. "I should have known you wouldn't be interested in a Muggle," Molly sighed as they reached the door.
Fleur was incensed. "That was a...a...suitor?" she cried. "A Muggle? He was small! He was bald! He was..." she searched for the word. "He was dull!"
Molly was smiling, just a bit.
"I am married!" Fleur added hastily. "And to someone who is much better than him."
Molly chuckled. "I've lost my touch," she said. "The next will be better."
"Do not invite another man to dinner," Fleur said flatly. "I will not come if you do."
Molly hugged her, handed her the can of Floo power, and pushed her gently toward the fireplace. "Good night, Fleur. Send me an owl to let me know you got home safely."
*
The next time it was Charlie, who was home from Romania for a few weeks' vacation.
"No," Fleur said, as soon as she entered Molly's flat and saw the table set for three. There were daffodils on the kitchen counter, and three candles burning on the table, and fancy crocheted throw pillows atop the neatly made bed.
"Surely you wanted to see Charlie while he was in town?" Molly asked innocently. Charlie looked back and forth between Fleur and his mother, puzzled.
"Charlie, maman tortures me," Fleur said, taking a seat at the table, gesturing for Charlie to come join her. "Tell me what news you've heard of your family. No one will talk to me about Bill."
Charlie looked anxious. "I think the Ministry have called off their search," he said, glancing at her uncertainly. "I'm so sorry," he added. "I thought you'd have been notified."
Fleur had, indeed, recently received an owl to the effect. She had put it where it belonged, in the dustbin.
"Incompetents, all of them," she said dismissively, with a wave of her hand, before she remembered. "But Ron has become an Incompetent himself, hasn't he?"
Charlie grinned in relief. "Assitant to the Junior Undersecretary, who would have guessed?"
Molly smiled at them encouragingly, and Fleur rolled her eyes.
Later that night, when Charlie casually mentioned that he had started to see someone at the dragon preserve, Fleur felt a tiny pang. It wasn't envy, not exactly, but she had a sudden vision of Molly and herself after Charlie left: two women washing up in the tiny, empty apartment, each silently lost in her own thoughts, each headed home to bed alone.
She deserved better than this, Fleur thought. She was young and beautiful and faithful. Everything would right itself, in the end, it would.
*
The next time it was that pink-haired woman who talked too loudly as well as an unattractive, silent blond man and that one with the deep voice...what was it, Kinsey?
"Kingsley," Molly corrected. "You remember Tonks, of course, and this is Sturgis Podmore. Have a seat, please, the pudding will be out in a minute." Molly had purchased a full-sized dining table since the last time Fleur had visited, along with matching plates and several small potted plants. Fleur took a seat at the far end of the table, far away from Kingsley and this Sturgis person, who had a name like a fish and was obviously her date.
"No, no," Molly said. "Here, Fleur, next to Sturgis. That's my seat, closest to the kitchen."
Fleur heaved a sigh and changed seats. The pink-haired Tonks grinned at her.
"It's been a while since I saw other Order members," this Sturgis person said, pouring her some cheap red wine. This was where Bill got his strange ideas about wine, from a women who overcooked her meat and bought everything on discount.
"I do not remember you," Fleur said cuttingly, and the man fell silent.
"It's a reunion of sorts," Molly said when she returned from the kitchen, beaming, pulling her apron off as she joined them. "Too long, too long. Kingsley, how is your little girl doing, now that it's just the two of you?"
Fleur thought she saw Kingsley wince, but when she caught his eye, he winked at her.
After dinner, as they all headed back to the Burrow to Floo home, Fleur made sure to walk with the pink-haired Tonks; surely she'd already done her duty with the fish-like Sturgis. They walked slowly, falling farther and farther behind the men.
"I got the letter a few weeks ago," Tonks said finally. "I suppose you did, too."
"What letter?" Fleur asked.
Tonks snorted. "You've got to be kidding me," she said. "What do you mean, what letter?"
"Ah, that one," Fleur said. She had almost forgotten about that strange, obsessive crush this woman used to have on Remus Lupin. She was quite certain they hadn't married, so why this woman deserved a letter, Fleur couldn't imagine.
"I pay no attention to them," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Your Ministry put Harry Potter on trial. Why should I believe what they say about my husband?"
Tonks stopped in her tracks and stared at Fleur for a moment. "How many years have you been living here?" she asked.
Fleur thought for a moment. "Five, this September," she said. "Why?"
"It's hardly your Ministry, is it, then?" she asked.
Fleur frowned. "What does it matter, whose Ministry it is, when they are incapable of finding Bill?"
"It's hard to find two decomposing bodies in an undisclosed location in eastern Europe," Tonks said flatly. "Even the French Ministry couldn't do it, I'm sure."
"Bill is not dead!" Fleur said. This woman, the impertinence!
Tonks shrugged. "He's not here with you, either."
Fleur did not grace this with a response, and they finished their walk in silence.
*
To Fleur's relief, the fish-man did not return to Molly's, and Molly appeared to have lost interest in match-making, at least for Fleur. Tonks came for dinner often, as did Kingsley. After a while Kingsley began to bring his daughter, a three-year-old with a proper French name, Marie, which seemed to have been her mother's. Molly doted on her when Kingsley brought her along, and Tonks chatted with Kingsley about Auror business. When Tonks wasn't bothering her, Fleur was usually free to enjoy the roast and soggy potatoes on her own while she read the newspaper or a magazine from home.
Fleur was glad that Molly had found another young couple to mother; she was doing quite fine on her own. If sometimes she felt sad when she watched Tonks and Kingsley talking heatedly, gesturing, and laughing, that was, perhaps, to be expected. She and Bill had been like this once, and they would be again, one day, but there were nights like tonight when Fleur wondered how long she would have to wait.
*
One dark, wet evening in September Fleur was deep in the Journal de Reference de Beauxbatons, curled up on Molly's new couch with a cup of tea, still full from dinner, when Tonks sat down next to her abruptly, all elbows and knees. Fleur's tea sloshed precariously.
"Hi," Tonks said. "While the other two are in the kitchen-"
Fleur frowned. "Mind your elbows. My tea is still hot."
"I, er, well," Tonks said. "I think we should go now, Fleur."
"Why?" Fleur said, glancing out the window. "The weather is horrible. It is still early. I shall wait for a while."
"No, let's go," Tonks insisted, reaching over to take the tea cup from Fleur's lap.
"Why are you bothering me?" Fleur asked, slapping Tonks' hand away. "I said I did not want to go."
Tonks leaned over, pink-cheeked, eyes wide. "I think Kingsley wants to spend the night," she whispered so softly Fleur could hardly hear her.
Fleur drew a sharp breath. "He should take you back to your own flat, then! There is no need to tell me about this, this...tryst."
Fleur hadn't intended to sound so unsympathetic, but really, what did Tonks expect? They had dinner together occasionally; that hardly made her a confidante.
Tonks' mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"These English!" Fleur said with disgust, returning to her newspaper.
Tonks pulled her newspaper away. "With Molly, Fleur. With Molly, not me."
"WHAT?" Fleur said. "WITH MOLLY?" Her voice was loud, even to her own ears, and afterward the flat seemed unnaturally silent.
Molly's voice came from the kitchen. "Everything all right, girls?"
"We're on our way, Molly!" Tonks called out, setting Fleur's tea aside. "Thanks for dinner! See you at work on Monday, Kingsley! Good night!"
Tonks threw her own cloak on, stuffed Fleur's cloak into her arms, and grabbed Fleur's red umbrella. One hand on the small of Fleur's back, Tonks pushed her out the door, down the stairs, and into the street.
Outside it was raining hard. Fleur squeezed her eyes shut to keep her head from spinning. Tonks silently passed Fleur the umbrella and lifted her own cloak over her head.
"Kingsley and Molly?" Fleur asked. "What do you mean? When did this happen?"
"Hush," Tonks said, with a glance back at the flat. "If the windows are still open they can hear us. Let's wait a bit."
They walked off in the direction of the Burrow, Tonks humming tunelessly under her breath.
"Stop," Fleur said. "You are hurting my ears."
"Sorry," Tonks said absently.
"Watch where you are going!" Fleur said as Tonks stepped into a puddle.
"Look," Tonks said when they reached the end of the high street and the start of the narrow path that ran to the Burrow. She grasped Fleur's arm, bringing them to a halt. "You're upset."
"I am not upset!" Fleur said, but tears were welling up in her eyes. She blinked several times and looked away. Her stomach wrenched uncomfortably as she imagined Molly and Kingsley kissing in Molly's small kitchen, as they must have been doing before she and Tonks left. She was surprised that she had missed all the signs of a budding romance. It had never occurred to her that Molly would fall in love again. This was not the way things were supposed to be.
Tonks sighed. "Can I stand under your umbrella, too?" When Fleur didn't reply, she stepped closer and pulled the edge of the umbrella over her head. "Thanks."
"When did this happen?" Fleur asked, looking over Tonks' shoulder, down the flooded path, toward the Burrow. "What about Arthur?" she added in a small voice.
Tonks sighed again. "Molly and Arthur haven't spoken since Molly went to Percy's funeral. It's been almost two years, Fleur."
"Oh," Fleur said. She knew that, she supposed; it just sounded different, said aloud like that. "Kingsley has to be half her age. He has a child. I thought you and he..."
"Kingsley's, well, Kingley's closer to Molly's age than mine," Tonks said. "And they get along. You must have noticed."
Fleur frowned, trying to remember. "He always laughs so much. I just thought that you and he..."
Tonks smiled. "I think that's what Molly thought so at first, too. Then I told her that I, well, I like women better," Tonks paused, eyes flicking to Fleur's face, checking for her reaction. She went on quickly. "She was shocked at first, I think, but they'd always got on better together, anyway. And I was becoming interested in someone else, so it all worked out, in the end."
She shrugged as if things do, in fact, tend to sort themselves out in this way, smoothly.
"You do?" Fleur asked, bemused. "You are? What about Remus?" She looked at Tonks, whose pale face suddenly seemed older and less familiar.
"Remus isn't here," Tonks said firmly. "And it's been a long time. I'm a different person now."
"Oh," Fleur said. She listened to the rain fall on her umbrella and wondered why she felt betrayed by Molly. That was silly. "It is a good thing for them, I suppose," she said hesitantly.
"Very good, I think," Tonks said. "Molly needs family. This business with Percy was awful."
Fleur nodded.
"Let's get to the Burrow," Tonks said at last. "At least it will be dry there."
They walked along the path together awkwardly for a few minutes, trying to share the small, dry space under the red umbrella. Then Tonks slipped her arm around Fleur's waist and fell in step with her.
Fleur's heart was beating insistently. She waited for a few minutes before she spoke again.
"Am I the one you were interested in?" she asked.
"Not exactly how I meant to bring it up," Tonks said wryly. "Sorry, forget I mentioned it."
"I did not know," Fleur said. "You never said." Fleur was surprised to discover that the thought was not unpleasant, not at all. She thought of Tonks, always trying to pull her into the conversation over dinner, and she wondered how she had missed the signs.
Tonks shrugged. "Really, it's quite all right. You don't have to say anything else."
By now they were close enough to the Burrow to see its silhouette against the evening sky. Tonks had the key to the front door and let them both inside. The house was mostly empty by now, and they shook out their wet cloaks directly onto the floor.
"Arthur says they're going to sell the house," Tonks said. "Harry said he might be interested, when he gets all the other the legal issues sorted."
Inexplicably, Fleur was on the verge of tears again, and Tonks pressed her lips together anxiously, as if she felt she'd said the wrong thing. "Do you ever watch Muggle films?" she asked.
"Sorry?" Fleur asked.
"Muggle films?" Tonks said. "Never mind, I didn't think so." She turned to leave.
"No, wait," Fleur said. "I could try."
"Really?" Tonks asked.
Fleur nodded.
"I have one with a beautiful French girl and a red umbrella," Tonks said. "It might be a good place to start."
Fleur rolled her eyes. "If Bill had said something like that in the beginning, I would be back home in France right now."
"All right," Tonks said, grinning. "Help me out, then."
They left by Floo, Tonks calling out the address of her flat.
*
Epilogue
Six years later, they were on holiday in Budapest, on the way home from a visit to Charlie and his family, walking along an avenue near the Opera when Tonks grabbed Fleur's hand and squeezed it convulsively.
"Ouch!" Fleur said. "Stop it!"
"Look," Tonks said, pointing across the street at a cafe where a dozen people were sitting. At the last table, there were two men seated side by side, one tall and red-headed, one thin and greying. They might have been holding hands, Fleur couldn't quite see.
"No!" Fleur said, laughing. "Come."
But a streetcar passed, and then the light changed, and by the time they crossed the street the two men were gone.
"Did I imagine that?" Fleur asked, looking around, searching for familiar figures in the crowd. "You saw them, too?"
Tonks shook her head. "They're gone now. If they were ever here. If we'd just got across the street a bit faster--"
Fleur smiled. "C'est la vie," she said. She also wished they had crossed the street more quickly, but she had long since made peace with the hand on Molly's clock that was stuck on "traveling." It was the only one that spoke the truth; all the others told harmless, comforting lies.
"You know, I'd always thought Remus was family," Tonks said conversationally as they walked back to their hotel.
"Even when you were just a little in love with him?" Fleur asked, teasing gently. "I seem to remember a lot of heartache."
"Rubbish," Tonks said airily, waving her hand. "I've never looked at anyone but you."
Fleur laughed. "Liar," she was about to say, but Tonks had already launched into a discussion their plans for the evening. Fleur listened to her silently, marveling at her ability to move on.
Harry had taken to serving Sunday dinner at the Burrow. Perhaps when Fleur got home she would see Molly there, and she could tell her about what she had seen.
Summary: Fleur remained faithful long after her husband went missing.
Word count: 3200
Rating: PG for brief mention of sexual themes, het and femslash
Characters: Fleur, Molly, Charlie, Tonks, Kingsley, and others
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: For /m, in response to the prompt "umbrellas."
Fleur remained faithful long after her husband went missing.
She waited patiently through the riotous, ugly celebrations after Voldemort's defeat; through Percy's grim, quiet funeral; through Hagrid's and Madame Maxime's nuptials; though the long and tedious round of incompetent Ministry trials that seemed more divisive than the war had ever been.
She never doubted, not when Harry went on trial, amidst much speculation and awful, scandalous headlines in the newspaper. Not when Molly and Arthur separated, quietly, several months later. Not when she heard the whispers, which were growing less circumspect by the day: missing and just married and so sad.
Bill would return. This seemed quite clear to Fleur, who hadn't worried much about this little werewolf mission that Bill had departed on so many months ago; everyone knew her husband was quite capable of taking care of himself, thank you. The gentle werewolf Remus Lupin had accompanied him, so he wasn't alone. He wasn't even in Britain, as far as she knew, and that was a good sign, as well.
One hand on Molly Weasley's clock was stuck on "traveling," that was all anyone knew. One day Bill would return, and Fleur would be able to resume the life she had set aside eighteen months ago.
"I am not a child," Fleur said patiently to Molly one night over dinner. "I do not tire of waiting and look for new play things."
"I haven't forgotten Bill," Molly said quietly, reaching out to grasp her hand across the table. "It's just that..."
"What?" Fleur said, glaring. Molly would not meet her eyes.
"You need to move on," Molly said.
"Like you did?" Fleur asked, gesturing around the room where they were eating. They were sitting at a tiny, cheap table in an almost-empty Muggle flat that Molly had rented a few months ago. Their dinner plates were mismatched, and a small bed stood unmade at the far end of the room.
Molly winced. "We're still trying to decide what to do about the Burrow," she said. "You're young, Fleur. You can do better than this."
"I am doing better than this," Fleur said dismissively.
"Fleur," Molly said gently. "Look at yourself."
"I need to go," Fleur said, standing up abruptly. She was out of the flat in an instant, without an apology, without helping with the washing up, without thanking her mother-in-law. Bill would not have been happy.
Outside it was a dark, late-winter evening, wet and slick and muddy, and she huddled under her red umbrella, making the long walk to the empty Burrow so that she could Floo home.
Even Bill's mother did not understand. Ah, the English. Pragmatic to a fault, so ready for compromise. Fleur walked briskly, feet getting wet, blood pounding. No one understood. Fleur was patient, Fleur was strong. Bill would be back.
*
Molly was not so easily put off.
The first time Fleur didn't notice what was happening; they met for dinner at a restaurant in the village, and Molly explained that her cousin was in town, would Fleur mind if he joined them? He was a sad little bald man, an accountant, whatever that was, who was oddly impervious to Fleur's charms and talked at lengths about Molly's precarious finances. Fleur was relieved not to have to make conversation.
Afterward, Molly walked her back to the Burrow. "I should have known you wouldn't be interested in a Muggle," Molly sighed as they reached the door.
Fleur was incensed. "That was a...a...suitor?" she cried. "A Muggle? He was small! He was bald! He was..." she searched for the word. "He was dull!"
Molly was smiling, just a bit.
"I am married!" Fleur added hastily. "And to someone who is much better than him."
Molly chuckled. "I've lost my touch," she said. "The next will be better."
"Do not invite another man to dinner," Fleur said flatly. "I will not come if you do."
Molly hugged her, handed her the can of Floo power, and pushed her gently toward the fireplace. "Good night, Fleur. Send me an owl to let me know you got home safely."
*
The next time it was Charlie, who was home from Romania for a few weeks' vacation.
"No," Fleur said, as soon as she entered Molly's flat and saw the table set for three. There were daffodils on the kitchen counter, and three candles burning on the table, and fancy crocheted throw pillows atop the neatly made bed.
"Surely you wanted to see Charlie while he was in town?" Molly asked innocently. Charlie looked back and forth between Fleur and his mother, puzzled.
"Charlie, maman tortures me," Fleur said, taking a seat at the table, gesturing for Charlie to come join her. "Tell me what news you've heard of your family. No one will talk to me about Bill."
Charlie looked anxious. "I think the Ministry have called off their search," he said, glancing at her uncertainly. "I'm so sorry," he added. "I thought you'd have been notified."
Fleur had, indeed, recently received an owl to the effect. She had put it where it belonged, in the dustbin.
"Incompetents, all of them," she said dismissively, with a wave of her hand, before she remembered. "But Ron has become an Incompetent himself, hasn't he?"
Charlie grinned in relief. "Assitant to the Junior Undersecretary, who would have guessed?"
Molly smiled at them encouragingly, and Fleur rolled her eyes.
Later that night, when Charlie casually mentioned that he had started to see someone at the dragon preserve, Fleur felt a tiny pang. It wasn't envy, not exactly, but she had a sudden vision of Molly and herself after Charlie left: two women washing up in the tiny, empty apartment, each silently lost in her own thoughts, each headed home to bed alone.
She deserved better than this, Fleur thought. She was young and beautiful and faithful. Everything would right itself, in the end, it would.
*
The next time it was that pink-haired woman who talked too loudly as well as an unattractive, silent blond man and that one with the deep voice...what was it, Kinsey?
"Kingsley," Molly corrected. "You remember Tonks, of course, and this is Sturgis Podmore. Have a seat, please, the pudding will be out in a minute." Molly had purchased a full-sized dining table since the last time Fleur had visited, along with matching plates and several small potted plants. Fleur took a seat at the far end of the table, far away from Kingsley and this Sturgis person, who had a name like a fish and was obviously her date.
"No, no," Molly said. "Here, Fleur, next to Sturgis. That's my seat, closest to the kitchen."
Fleur heaved a sigh and changed seats. The pink-haired Tonks grinned at her.
"It's been a while since I saw other Order members," this Sturgis person said, pouring her some cheap red wine. This was where Bill got his strange ideas about wine, from a women who overcooked her meat and bought everything on discount.
"I do not remember you," Fleur said cuttingly, and the man fell silent.
"It's a reunion of sorts," Molly said when she returned from the kitchen, beaming, pulling her apron off as she joined them. "Too long, too long. Kingsley, how is your little girl doing, now that it's just the two of you?"
Fleur thought she saw Kingsley wince, but when she caught his eye, he winked at her.
After dinner, as they all headed back to the Burrow to Floo home, Fleur made sure to walk with the pink-haired Tonks; surely she'd already done her duty with the fish-like Sturgis. They walked slowly, falling farther and farther behind the men.
"I got the letter a few weeks ago," Tonks said finally. "I suppose you did, too."
"What letter?" Fleur asked.
Tonks snorted. "You've got to be kidding me," she said. "What do you mean, what letter?"
"Ah, that one," Fleur said. She had almost forgotten about that strange, obsessive crush this woman used to have on Remus Lupin. She was quite certain they hadn't married, so why this woman deserved a letter, Fleur couldn't imagine.
"I pay no attention to them," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Your Ministry put Harry Potter on trial. Why should I believe what they say about my husband?"
Tonks stopped in her tracks and stared at Fleur for a moment. "How many years have you been living here?" she asked.
Fleur thought for a moment. "Five, this September," she said. "Why?"
"It's hardly your Ministry, is it, then?" she asked.
Fleur frowned. "What does it matter, whose Ministry it is, when they are incapable of finding Bill?"
"It's hard to find two decomposing bodies in an undisclosed location in eastern Europe," Tonks said flatly. "Even the French Ministry couldn't do it, I'm sure."
"Bill is not dead!" Fleur said. This woman, the impertinence!
Tonks shrugged. "He's not here with you, either."
Fleur did not grace this with a response, and they finished their walk in silence.
*
To Fleur's relief, the fish-man did not return to Molly's, and Molly appeared to have lost interest in match-making, at least for Fleur. Tonks came for dinner often, as did Kingsley. After a while Kingsley began to bring his daughter, a three-year-old with a proper French name, Marie, which seemed to have been her mother's. Molly doted on her when Kingsley brought her along, and Tonks chatted with Kingsley about Auror business. When Tonks wasn't bothering her, Fleur was usually free to enjoy the roast and soggy potatoes on her own while she read the newspaper or a magazine from home.
Fleur was glad that Molly had found another young couple to mother; she was doing quite fine on her own. If sometimes she felt sad when she watched Tonks and Kingsley talking heatedly, gesturing, and laughing, that was, perhaps, to be expected. She and Bill had been like this once, and they would be again, one day, but there were nights like tonight when Fleur wondered how long she would have to wait.
*
One dark, wet evening in September Fleur was deep in the Journal de Reference de Beauxbatons, curled up on Molly's new couch with a cup of tea, still full from dinner, when Tonks sat down next to her abruptly, all elbows and knees. Fleur's tea sloshed precariously.
"Hi," Tonks said. "While the other two are in the kitchen-"
Fleur frowned. "Mind your elbows. My tea is still hot."
"I, er, well," Tonks said. "I think we should go now, Fleur."
"Why?" Fleur said, glancing out the window. "The weather is horrible. It is still early. I shall wait for a while."
"No, let's go," Tonks insisted, reaching over to take the tea cup from Fleur's lap.
"Why are you bothering me?" Fleur asked, slapping Tonks' hand away. "I said I did not want to go."
Tonks leaned over, pink-cheeked, eyes wide. "I think Kingsley wants to spend the night," she whispered so softly Fleur could hardly hear her.
Fleur drew a sharp breath. "He should take you back to your own flat, then! There is no need to tell me about this, this...tryst."
Fleur hadn't intended to sound so unsympathetic, but really, what did Tonks expect? They had dinner together occasionally; that hardly made her a confidante.
Tonks' mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"These English!" Fleur said with disgust, returning to her newspaper.
Tonks pulled her newspaper away. "With Molly, Fleur. With Molly, not me."
"WHAT?" Fleur said. "WITH MOLLY?" Her voice was loud, even to her own ears, and afterward the flat seemed unnaturally silent.
Molly's voice came from the kitchen. "Everything all right, girls?"
"We're on our way, Molly!" Tonks called out, setting Fleur's tea aside. "Thanks for dinner! See you at work on Monday, Kingsley! Good night!"
Tonks threw her own cloak on, stuffed Fleur's cloak into her arms, and grabbed Fleur's red umbrella. One hand on the small of Fleur's back, Tonks pushed her out the door, down the stairs, and into the street.
Outside it was raining hard. Fleur squeezed her eyes shut to keep her head from spinning. Tonks silently passed Fleur the umbrella and lifted her own cloak over her head.
"Kingsley and Molly?" Fleur asked. "What do you mean? When did this happen?"
"Hush," Tonks said, with a glance back at the flat. "If the windows are still open they can hear us. Let's wait a bit."
They walked off in the direction of the Burrow, Tonks humming tunelessly under her breath.
"Stop," Fleur said. "You are hurting my ears."
"Sorry," Tonks said absently.
"Watch where you are going!" Fleur said as Tonks stepped into a puddle.
"Look," Tonks said when they reached the end of the high street and the start of the narrow path that ran to the Burrow. She grasped Fleur's arm, bringing them to a halt. "You're upset."
"I am not upset!" Fleur said, but tears were welling up in her eyes. She blinked several times and looked away. Her stomach wrenched uncomfortably as she imagined Molly and Kingsley kissing in Molly's small kitchen, as they must have been doing before she and Tonks left. She was surprised that she had missed all the signs of a budding romance. It had never occurred to her that Molly would fall in love again. This was not the way things were supposed to be.
Tonks sighed. "Can I stand under your umbrella, too?" When Fleur didn't reply, she stepped closer and pulled the edge of the umbrella over her head. "Thanks."
"When did this happen?" Fleur asked, looking over Tonks' shoulder, down the flooded path, toward the Burrow. "What about Arthur?" she added in a small voice.
Tonks sighed again. "Molly and Arthur haven't spoken since Molly went to Percy's funeral. It's been almost two years, Fleur."
"Oh," Fleur said. She knew that, she supposed; it just sounded different, said aloud like that. "Kingsley has to be half her age. He has a child. I thought you and he..."
"Kingsley's, well, Kingley's closer to Molly's age than mine," Tonks said. "And they get along. You must have noticed."
Fleur frowned, trying to remember. "He always laughs so much. I just thought that you and he..."
Tonks smiled. "I think that's what Molly thought so at first, too. Then I told her that I, well, I like women better," Tonks paused, eyes flicking to Fleur's face, checking for her reaction. She went on quickly. "She was shocked at first, I think, but they'd always got on better together, anyway. And I was becoming interested in someone else, so it all worked out, in the end."
She shrugged as if things do, in fact, tend to sort themselves out in this way, smoothly.
"You do?" Fleur asked, bemused. "You are? What about Remus?" She looked at Tonks, whose pale face suddenly seemed older and less familiar.
"Remus isn't here," Tonks said firmly. "And it's been a long time. I'm a different person now."
"Oh," Fleur said. She listened to the rain fall on her umbrella and wondered why she felt betrayed by Molly. That was silly. "It is a good thing for them, I suppose," she said hesitantly.
"Very good, I think," Tonks said. "Molly needs family. This business with Percy was awful."
Fleur nodded.
"Let's get to the Burrow," Tonks said at last. "At least it will be dry there."
They walked along the path together awkwardly for a few minutes, trying to share the small, dry space under the red umbrella. Then Tonks slipped her arm around Fleur's waist and fell in step with her.
Fleur's heart was beating insistently. She waited for a few minutes before she spoke again.
"Am I the one you were interested in?" she asked.
"Not exactly how I meant to bring it up," Tonks said wryly. "Sorry, forget I mentioned it."
"I did not know," Fleur said. "You never said." Fleur was surprised to discover that the thought was not unpleasant, not at all. She thought of Tonks, always trying to pull her into the conversation over dinner, and she wondered how she had missed the signs.
Tonks shrugged. "Really, it's quite all right. You don't have to say anything else."
By now they were close enough to the Burrow to see its silhouette against the evening sky. Tonks had the key to the front door and let them both inside. The house was mostly empty by now, and they shook out their wet cloaks directly onto the floor.
"Arthur says they're going to sell the house," Tonks said. "Harry said he might be interested, when he gets all the other the legal issues sorted."
Inexplicably, Fleur was on the verge of tears again, and Tonks pressed her lips together anxiously, as if she felt she'd said the wrong thing. "Do you ever watch Muggle films?" she asked.
"Sorry?" Fleur asked.
"Muggle films?" Tonks said. "Never mind, I didn't think so." She turned to leave.
"No, wait," Fleur said. "I could try."
"Really?" Tonks asked.
Fleur nodded.
"I have one with a beautiful French girl and a red umbrella," Tonks said. "It might be a good place to start."
Fleur rolled her eyes. "If Bill had said something like that in the beginning, I would be back home in France right now."
"All right," Tonks said, grinning. "Help me out, then."
They left by Floo, Tonks calling out the address of her flat.
*
Epilogue
Six years later, they were on holiday in Budapest, on the way home from a visit to Charlie and his family, walking along an avenue near the Opera when Tonks grabbed Fleur's hand and squeezed it convulsively.
"Ouch!" Fleur said. "Stop it!"
"Look," Tonks said, pointing across the street at a cafe where a dozen people were sitting. At the last table, there were two men seated side by side, one tall and red-headed, one thin and greying. They might have been holding hands, Fleur couldn't quite see.
"No!" Fleur said, laughing. "Come."
But a streetcar passed, and then the light changed, and by the time they crossed the street the two men were gone.
"Did I imagine that?" Fleur asked, looking around, searching for familiar figures in the crowd. "You saw them, too?"
Tonks shook her head. "They're gone now. If they were ever here. If we'd just got across the street a bit faster--"
Fleur smiled. "C'est la vie," she said. She also wished they had crossed the street more quickly, but she had long since made peace with the hand on Molly's clock that was stuck on "traveling." It was the only one that spoke the truth; all the others told harmless, comforting lies.
"You know, I'd always thought Remus was family," Tonks said conversationally as they walked back to their hotel.
"Even when you were just a little in love with him?" Fleur asked, teasing gently. "I seem to remember a lot of heartache."
"Rubbish," Tonks said airily, waving her hand. "I've never looked at anyone but you."
Fleur laughed. "Liar," she was about to say, but Tonks had already launched into a discussion their plans for the evening. Fleur listened to her silently, marveling at her ability to move on.
Harry had taken to serving Sunday dinner at the Burrow. Perhaps when Fleur got home she would see Molly there, and she could tell her about what she had seen.