Her parents are preparing to leave, saying their goodbyes to the Weasley family. The young witch takes Fleur by the hand and pulls her aside. If the wedding's interruption is any indication, Britain has fallen on dark times. It is no longer safe for Fleur to stay in such a place, and Gabrielle pleads for her to return to France with them.
"Bill will understand," she insists, desperation causing her gentle voice to rise.
But Fleur is stubborn. She cites her duties to the Order and talks of the deaths that have happened in such a short period, and the freedom they must protect.
Deaths. Plural. More than one in only a handful of days. Gabrielle hasn't thought of death since the Diggory boy. Now, she's confronted with it. Fleur could be next, she realizes, and Gabrielle finds herself in tears. Her thin arms wrap around her sister, and she clings tightly, refusing to let go. "This is not your war!" she cries, pleading with Fleur to see reason.
"No," Fleur agrees, stroking Gabrielle's hair softly. "But I married into it."
Britain is dangerous, but a woman in love is more dangerous. Fleur will not be swayed. All Gabrielle can do is hold tightly while she can and spend her days hoping for Fleur's safety.
"Be careful," Gabrielle whispers.
Fleur pulls away, a sad smile on her lips. "Always," she says. "Be good."
Gabrielle mirrors the smile that doesn't quite and gives a single nod. "Always," she echoes.