My first HP story actually. I've written some stuff for other... stuff before but this is my first HP fanfic. Wieee~

Bill and Fleur. I adore the couple.

Enjoy!

"Money often costs too much"

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Fleur Delacour looked around in the blue marble bathroom with a sigh and a small dejected smile.

She had exactly half an hour to get ready – unusually much. She would normally be much more pressed for time when she would transfer to the perfect, shining daughter of the hosts.

For fifteen years she had been her parents factotum, travelled everywhere with them, accompanied her mother on countless shopping trips, taken phone calls from her father's 'female acquaintances' she had even been sitting in the wings late at night when her father got interviewed about his latest book.
Those articles were unnecessary advertisement, at least if you believed all the prizes his latest books had received. But her father loved those appearances.
He loved to prance and guzzle himself in admiration from critics and from women that confused him for the heroes in his books.

Fleur couldn't quite understand how anyone could mistake Russell Delacour for a novel hero.
It was true that he was very charming, fun and all around wonderful to be around at parties and such, but as soon as the parties were over his bad sides were revealed.

He had hurt her countless of times, he had forgotten to come to Beauxbatons at all the important occasions, he had never showed up at a competition or any play. He had neglected her, often because of his work.

Her childhood had been filled with elegant parties, pompous yacht cruises and fine dinners at exclusive restaurants.
Now there was hardly any reason for anyone to pity her for a life like that, but with a life just like that everyone was too 'busy' to really care.

Her mother, extraordinary beautiful with her blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and a smile that was impossible to resist, was not any ideal parent either. She and Russell had met on a party once upon a time, and immediately got attracted to each other. Well, actually Russell got attracted to her and her to his money.
Now when their passion for each other had died a long time ago Fleur suspected they only stuck together of egoistical reasons, her father was old and it was highly unlikely for him to find himself a new wife meanwhile her mother still only was there for the money.

Anyway, Apolline Delacour often seemed to think of her children as mere accessories more than... well, herchildren.
It was from Apolline Fleur had got her beauty though.

Fleur shared all her mother's traits and even her Veela-charm had been passed on. There was really nothing that gave away that she indeed was Russell's daughter. Her father with his dark hair, green eyes and plump figure contrasted sharply against Fleur's thin figure and her blonde hair that often surrounded her like a halo when she brushed it into soft curls, which she was currently doing meanwhile she threw a new look at the clock.

A fast calculation. Twenty minutes. She had time.

She sunk down into the warm water in the bathtub and tried to relax while she watched the snow fall outside. It was December and the winter's first snowfall.

It was also the season's first party, and it had to be a success. Her father had been very strict on this point.
She wondered if some guests wouldn't arrive because of the snow, but it was unlikely. Her parents' parties were all too coveted for anyone to fail to come and risk to not be invited again.

Parties were an important part of Russell's life. After a finished book he had at least one party. And a party at the Delacours' were like heaven for its guests.

The parties were always spectacular. The luxurious furnishing sparkled in 17th century's splendour while house-elves ran around and musicians played.
Fleur, the perfect daughter, passed between the groups slowly and succeed to always be precisely where she was needed.

She was an unforgettable creature, beautiful and peculiar. The only one that didn't seem to realize how remarkable she indeed was was her father who thought that all women were as beautiful as Fleur.

He took her for granted and that was something that long had annoyed her.

Fleur dried herself with a silky large bath towel and thought that now she'd have to hurry.
Luckily she had already picked her clothes. She'd wear a dress of light blue watered silk that fell straight down from her shoulders to her insteps like a lustrous cover.

She took on laced underwear, slid into the dress and stepped into a pair of matching white sandals with silver heels.

The dress was amazing on her. She admired her reflection as she brushed her hair on last time in front of the full-length mirror from the 18th century. She buckled a diamond chain around her neck and a similar bracelet around her wrist while small pearls sparkled in her earlobes.

And then she carefully lifted the heavy white velvet tunic down off the hanger and swept it over the dress gracefully.

Along with the tunic she looked like a symphony of blue and white.

It was a captivatingly beautiful attire. But she wore it as naturally and unmoved as if she had worn a pair of faded jeans.

Yes, she was vain and she knew it.

"You're pretty."

Fleur turned around at the sound of her sister's voice and smiled at her softly.

"You're prettier." In Fleur's eyes she always was. Gabrielle grimaced and looked down on her simple pink dress that went to her knees. "Is your packing done?" Fleur asked when Gabrielle didn't answer.

Their parents never let Gabrielle stay at their more elegant and more important parties. They always sent her to their Aunt Jolie in Paris for some days whenever those kinds of partied took place. It was probably the most parent-like thing they had ever come up with.

Aunt Jolie was a silly unmarried middle-aged woman who often spoke without thinking and found joy in expensive clothes, gossip and rich men. Neither Gabrielle nor Fleur liked her very much but since she was their mother's sister and best friend they had not much choice but to endure her at her – luckily - rare visits, bigger holidays and in Gabrielle's case during her parents' parties.

"I asked Roseanne to do it for me." Gabrielle answered nonchalantly but she was careful to avoid her sister's piercing eyes.

Roseanne was one of their house-elves who actually worked for the Delacours of her own will. Fleur was therefore, but also because she was the kindest of all the house-elves, careful not to overload her with work.

"Gabrielle..." Fleur began with a reprimanding voice but said sister interrupted her quickly.

"She didn't protest. She didn't even sigh! She was happy to do it for me." Gabrielle defended herself.

"Well, of course she was Gabrielle. She's a house-elf; she sees it as her duty to do as you say." Fleur sighed. "You know this, Gabrielle. You shouldn't- you mustn't do like that!"

This was not the first time Fleur felt like a mother when she reprimanded her sister, and it would probably not be the last time either. It was usually Fleur who took on the role as the sensible parent in their home. With their father too caught up in his writings and their mother too busy spending her husband's money they were both too 'engaged' to take care of their children.
So when Gabrielle was born it was always Fleur who took care of her when their parents were out, she who kissed the wounds alright, she who went with her to the ballet lessons, she who told all the bedtime stories about the Hopping Pot & the Fountain of Fair Fortune and soothe circle was closed. But Fleur didn't regret a thing. Gabrielle had grown to be her only and best friend.

"Yes, I know! Stop complaining already!" Gabrielle snapped surly but she didn't run off and slam some door like most six years old would, she just stayed and sulked with her arms across her chest in the doorway to Fleur's bathroom, because she knew she didn't really have anywhere else to go.

"I don't want to go." Gabrielle mumbled quietly after a while of quiet sulking. "I want to stay here... with you."

Fleur's heart melted as she watched Gabrielle who desperately tried to blink away the tears that refused to disappear from her eyes.

"Come here..." Fleur bowed down and opened her arms lovingly.

"Your dress will get creased" Gabrielle objected and looked down at her feet.

"I don't care"

Gabrielle hesitated for a bit but then she launched into her sisters arms. Fleur stroke Gabrielle's hair gently as her tears streamed freely down her face now.

Fleur quickly pulled away and looked at her sister's tear eyed face teasingly.

"Now, now... Some creases I can withstand, but tearstains are a whole different matter." Gabrielle laughed in surprise. Merlin, she'd miss her.

Fleur laughed too and kissed her sister's forehead affectionately.

"Now..." Fleur straightened up. "Go and see if Roseanne's done packing and then go and tell your parents goodbye."

Gabrielle nodded gloomily and ran out of the room fast.

Merlin, she'd really miss her.

A while later when Fleur finally came downstairs, the whole floor was filled with people who laughed, chatted, drank, talked behind each other's backs and flirted.

No matter where the eyes were directed there were evening growns in all kinds of shades, rivers of jewels and an army of men in black ties and white shirts decorated with different kinds of expensive stones.

There were almost hundreds of familiar faces in the crowd. Except for the hundred familiar ones there were further two hundred unfamiliar ones who drank champagne, ate caviar, danced and looked for Russell Delacour or others they had hoped to see or maybe even talk to.

Through it all slid Fleur gracefully, darted back and forth, made sure everything went pleasantly, that people were presented and got champagne and food. She kept her distance carefully when her father seemed to be flirting with some woman and hurried to keep her mother occupied until it was over.
With other words, she took care of her task to perfection.

Because that's what I'm all about Fleur thought when she took a break out on the balcony, Perfection.

"Quite a party you've got here, huh?"

The voice both scared and surprised her, not only because it was English but also because it was so close and Fleur could have sworn that she had been the only one out here.
More frightening it was when she couldn't find the owner of the voice, no matter in which direction she looked.

"Down here."

She looked down and sure enough, there was a small, mean-looking and now highly annoyed goblin in a suit holding a half full glass of champagne in his hand. Fleur had never liked goblin hands; they were way too large and warty.

"Oh, I am sorry, sir. I did not see you zere." Fleur apologized in her broken English.

The goblin winced at her pronunciation.

"Merlin, your English is even worse than your father's." The goblin chuckled slightly. Fleur wanted to protest – her English wasn't that bad – but chose not to. It was a party they were at and he could be someone important.

"You know my fazzer?" Fleur asked instead.

"Griphook. I'm your father's financial counsellor." The goblin, Griphook apparently, held out his hand towards her.

"But you are English!" She exclaimed surprised.

"So?" The goblin hissed and drew his hand away immediately. "Are you saying an English can't deal with money? 'Cause I'll have you known little missy, that I happen to be very good at my job!" Apparently he was touchy too.

Fleur shrank back from the spitting and furious goblin in surprise. Her comment hadn't been meant to be rude, she had just been surprised. Why would her French father hire an English counsellor?

"Zat is not what I meant I just..." But Griphook didn't listen.

"You think French bankers are better, huh? Oh, I let you in on a secret little miss upper-class; the French bank is on the verge of bankrupt!" Griphook made a dramatic break and looked at her expectantly, as if it actually meant something to her.

After a while of blank staring on her part Griphook obviously realized that Fleur didn't give a crap, and he went to glaring surly at her instead.

"Just give this to your father, girlie and tell him it's important he's present." Griphook pulled a letter from the inner-pocket of his jacket.

"What iz it?" Fleur asked curiously as she received the letter. It was brown and nothing really special about it. Her father's name was written neatly on the front.

"Nosy too, huh? What a surprise." Griphook said sarcastically before he left, muttering something about French manners.

Don't then.

Fleur returned back inside with the letter in her hands but her father was still surrounded by ingratiating guests so Fleur left the letter on the desk in his study instead. He always checked his study before he went to bed for some reason.

The party continued until three in the morning and it ached in her whole body when she slowly went upstairs. Her parents were still entertaining some friends but her job was done.
The employees had cleaned up the most of the mess, the musicians had been paid and sent home, the last guests had been thanked before they went and the women, veiled in their mink coats while their husbands helped them home.

Everything had gone well. It always did.

The chapter is boring, I know. But I want to get through how Fleur lives and have lived all these years and how the relationship with the family is and etc.

Oh, and I forgot to mention earlier. Big thanks to Danielle Steel and her book Loving it has been a great source for inspiration.