Sisters
Gabrielle Delacour shivers and bites her lip. Cold, so cold.
"Gabrielle, tu vas bien? Oh mon Dieu, je suis tellement heureuse que tu vas bien*!" Fleur's eyes are shining with tears of anxiety as wraps Gabrielle with a towel. Gabrielle lets out a small sigh of relief. It's a bit less cold now. She feels her sister's skinny body engulfing her in a huge, warm hug and she smiles weakly.
"Oui, je suis d'accord," Gabrielle manages to reply through chattering teeth. Yes, I'm okay.
"'Arry!" Fleur turns to Harry Potter and says something in English. Gabrielle doesn't understand her; she can't speak the language. But she sees Harry Potter's face turn red and imagines her sister thanking him lavishly. She scowls slightly. Fleur turns to Harry's friend, the ginger-haired boy, and kisses him on the cheek. Harry and his friend look dazed.
Gabrielle can't help it. She looks away, small tears forming in her eyes. She hates that she's so sensitive about her sister being more attractive, more desired than her. Sure, she's pretty, and people don't hesitate to tell her that, but as soon as they set eyes on Fleur, Gabrielle is all but forgotten.
This is something that keeps her awake every night. She's pretty, but she's not beautiful or womanly. She's already thirteen years old**, but she still has a lot of her childhood chubbiness. She doesn't have the same heavenly, musical voice as Fleur does. She isn't musical at all; while Fleur plays the piano and sings beautifully, Gabrielle can't even hold a tune. Fleur has always done brilliantly in school; Gabrielle barely manages to be average.
Sometimes, Fleur can be arrogant.
But she's always so perfect at charming her way out of everything, it isn't even a factor.
And sometimes, people think her arrogance is almost ... something to admire. Like it's a strong personality trait that makes her more of an interesting person than she already is.
Stupide.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She curses herself silently for acting like this; for being so sensitive. She knows that she's lucky. She has a wonderful family, nice friends and a decent life.
Why can't she just not care? Why can't she be happy with what she has? She wants to be happy, definitely. She knows it'll be so much better for her if she simply smiled at whoever liked her sister more than her and be a nice person to them, anyway.
But she just has to feel this envy towards Fleur.
Would her life be better if she were more beautiful, more desirable than Fleur?
She doesn't know.
"Gabrielle? Tu pleures?" Gabrielle? Are you crying?
Gabrielle doesn't even remember feeling tears on her cheeks. She wipes them away hastily. "C'est juste très froid." It's just very cold.
Fleur looks into her sister's eyes anxiously. She looks so worried.
Gabrielle feels worse than she already does.
"Dites-moi si vous ne vous sentez pas bien, d'accord?" Tell me if you aren't feeling good, alright?
"Je le ferai." I will.
"Je t'aime, Gabrielle. Reposez-vous pendant un certain temps." I love you, Gabrielle. Just rest for a while.
"Je t'aime aussi," Gabrielle whispers in reply.
Being envious of someone would be so much easier if they weren't so nice.
Gabrielle takes a deep breath and tries to think happy thoughts.
All she can think of is being just as pretty and just as perfect and just as wonderful as Fleur.
She hates this.
*Every single word of French in this chapter comes directly from Google Translate, so feel free to point out errors if you spot any.
**She's probably younger than this, but for the sake of this story I changed her age.
a/n - gabrielle delacour is now my favourite minor character idek why