"Ten years. Can you believe it?"

Gabrielle Delacour shrugged. "Yes?"

"That's...what. Half your life?"

She raised her eyebrows and gave a surprised laugh. "Guess so."

"I just did. I forgot how old you were."

"Twenty-one een August," she smiled, looking him up and down as if trying to place him. It was, to her credit, somewhat difficult to keep her sister's brothers-in-law straight. There was Percy, picking up shells on the seashore with his older daughter; George, egging Louis and his toy broomstick on; and Ron, enjoying the punch.

Which made the one she was talking to Charlie. "Do you remember trying to seeng at the reception?"

"We...it was a hectic day," Charlie blushed, "I've tried to block out most of it. What, do you want to blackmail me?"

"It was just 'ilarious," she said. "You were trying to sing 'een French."

"Frere Jacques!" he said, teasingly crossing his arms. "Because I was becoming...er...Fleur's brother! In law."

"Yes," she said, "only...your name isn't Jacques."

He broke out laughing, and only laughed more when she added, "And you can't speak French."

"It seemed like the cosmopolitan thing to do!"

"I'm sure eet did."

"Anyway," Charlie said, trying to redirect the conversation, "what are you up to these days?"

"I'm an apprentice craftsmage," she said eagerly, "making astronomical models. EEt's...I love it, it's just very tedious going, you know, one meestake and it's back to the start. So it's slow and I won't be doing my own work for a while yet, but..."

She continued, her accent growing stronger as her pace picked up. Charlie nodded at appropriate-enough intervals, and gladly took his turn updating her on Romania. "It's brilliant," he gushed. "Working with dragons every day. I mean, growing up, my mum was always taking care of us and my dad worked at the Ministry, you know? And obviously he was removing enchantments left and right. But to have a job like this, it's just more...more of everything, than I could have imagined just growing up here. I love it."

Gabrielle nodded. "Still, 'eet must be nice to get to come back and see your family."

"It...yeah," he broke off. "Yeah."

She took a few more steps down the beach, away from others' earshot, Charlie following behind. "I miss Fleur. Very much."

He nodded.

"I know," she sighed, "I am being silly."

"No," Charlie reflexively began, "it's fine—"

"If it was not Bill, she would 'ave married someone else and—and 'ad cheeldren, I still would only see her very little."

"You're all right."

Gabrielle bit her lip, but said just "Yes" and purposefully made her way towards the larger group, helping herself to a large wad of cheese. "I do not like all 'zis English food," she shrugged.

"Well, I always appreciate stopping in Honeydukes once I come back. You can't get a decent Chocolate Frog on the continent."

"It was nothing personal."

"I know."

"Wotcher, Gabrielle!" waved Ginny, sitting down next to them.

"'Ello!" Gabrielle broke into a grin. "I eenjoyed your articles about the European Cup very much."

"Oh, there's no need to suck up, come along."

"But I did!" Gabrielle blushed. "I deedn't understand 'ow Vratsa could implode in ze end, but you made eet all seem...inevitable. It was very well-written."

"Yes. Well, it helps to have read up on the teams beforehand," Ginny blushed, but she quickly went into an in-depth analysis as Charlie slipped away to inspect the punch supply. By the time he got back, Gabrielle had given up on trying to remember the difference between Puddlemere and Portree, but Albus Severus was whining and Ginny excused herself to deal with him.

Gabrielle glowered. "You all right?" Charlie asked.

"Yes," she said unconvincingly. At a probing glare, she went on. "I mean...all of Bill and Fleur's friends are older than me. Ginny is about as close to my age as anyone here, and she already 'as two keeds. She left Quidditch for 'zis. I just...never mind. Décalage horaire."

"Quelle?" Charlie tried to ask.

"Quell? What?"

"I'm asking you. What?"

"What?"

"You said something in French."

"Oh," she said, shaking her head. "I'm an hour off, Apparating. I'm just tired. Don't mind me when I talk seelly."

"You're all right. You're twenty?"

"Yes."

"Bill is seven years older than Fleur. Maybe there's someone out there for you who's barely a teenager, give it time."

"But 'ow would I know? I am not like Fleur, I don't know 'ow to realize...'ow I feel, sometimes."

"Maybe not. It doesn't matter. Some women find men to fall in love with, some people...you know, just Beat for the other team, and then some of us are...off playing Shuntbumps."

"Shuntbumps?" she asked dubiously. "Ees this an Eenglish...meaning for something else!"

"No!" giggled Charlie. "Well, yes, but not inappropriate."

"Shuntbumps?"

"What broom games do you play...en Français?" At her look, he went on, "I mean, in France, not in French."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

"What I mean is, personally? I'm not gay, and I'm not straight either. I'm...in English it's "asexual," at least that's what some Muggles call it."

"Asexuelle," Gabrielle repeated. "Yes, I have heard of 'zis, once. May...may I ask you a question?"

"Er, I mean, okay."

"Eef it is too embarrassing—"

"Oh, this isn't embarrassing at all. Just—what's the question?"

"When did you...realize...'zis? Zat is, 'ow old were you?"

"I was about seventeen when I realized that all wasn't for me. Didn't know the word then. Didn't talk with a lot of Muggles then, granted."

Gabrielle nodded.

"If I may ask, where did you come across the word? Not something I get to throw into my everyday conversation," he grinned

"A Muggle friend."

"Fair enough." He asked nothing else.

"I wish I was...brave enough to call myself that. Or something."

"Don't worry about it. Here, can I get you anything? Food? I want some more Butterbeer."

"'Zat cheese was good," Gabrielle blushed.

"I'm on it," Charlie said, returning a few minutes later.

"You should go talk with your brothers, I've wasted enough of your time."

"Trust me, you haven't. I...I'm grateful for the conversation, once in a while. It's a break from disastrous dating stories, anyway."

Gabrielle nodded, sipping a glass of water. "'Zis Muggle friend of mine. She ees like you. And I...sometimes I feel like I am old enough, have seen enough to know that I am not like other people. But then again, I am..." She lowered her voice. "I am not like other people."

"Does she know that you're a witch?"

"No, even 'zis is not the important thing. It is...even if I never picked up my wand, my grandmuzzer's blood is still alive in me. You see? I am not all...'uman."

Charlie nodded.

"Fleur...Fleur was always the talented one. Not only at casting spells, but at knowing 'ow to make friends and do everything zee 'uman way. I do not 'ave so much Veela blood as to fit in with them, but I was always slow to be 'uman, too. But if Fleur can get married like a normal woman...I cannot even puzzle out if I am different like you and Coralie, or just blind to what my human parts tell me. Perhaps I 'ave fallen in love and did not even know 'eet!"

"It doesn't matter—"

"I know, I know—"

"Hey, listen. What I mean is, even if you still have to work at some things, and you don't get others, even if you never find the right words for it—you'refine doing human things. Your human is...even better than your English. And that's brilliant."

"Thank you," Gabrielle smiled.

She finished her cheese and stood up. There were other family members to talk to, other people she loved, but she couldn't let him go just then. "And 'zat ees ten times better 'zan your sorry French!"

"Oui, madame," said Charlie.