This begins in the summer of OOTP. General apology for Fleur's accent – not something I'm particularly adept at. I hope it's decipherable; let me know if it isn't.
Hope you enjoy it!
Somewhere I have never travelled
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
e.e. cummings
Fleur quickly discovered that Gringotts was nothing like the bank in which her father worked. There, the very floors sparkled, and when Fleur had been younger, she had asked her father if they trapped precious stones in it. Her father had laughed at her, which she had not much appreciated.
At Gringotts, everything resembled goblins. Fleur spared her overseer a glance, and decided that one day she would ask if the diminutive woman were part-goblin. It was the only way to explain that nose.
Fleur's own nose wrinkled at the thought – or, on second sniff, it was at the stench of the package she was unwrapping.
"Alors!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "What is zat?"
Her overseer let out a huffing sigh. "Is that from Flannery O'Connor? I thought you were instructed not to open any parcels with that name on it! Go wash your hands. Quick, girl. Don't use magic; that tends to intensify the smell."
Fleur swallowed, looking down at her palms, which were turning a ghastly green colour. She clenched her hands into fists, heading for the employees' toilets, where she faced the problem of how to open the door without touching it. This country, honestly. In France, the doors would have sensed she wanted them to open, or-
"You know, it's not there for decorative purposes."
"Thank you," she said dryly, glancing up at the red-haired man. There was a flutter of recognition in her stomach, and she was thankful that at least one thing at Gringotts - two if you counted Fleur herself - did not look like a goblin. "Would you open it for me, please?"
"Since you ask so nicely." He bowed as he opened the door. "Mademoiselle, the ladies' room awaits you."
Her lips quirked up in an involuntary smile. "Merci, monsieur."
Things settled down after the O'Connor incident, and Fleur learnt to read the senders' names first and to use her wand to unwrap things. Her task was to ensure items posted to Gringotts were dispatched to the correct vaults, and were not the plots of crabby old wizards trying to fill their relatives' vaults with excrement.
Whilst her job (or rather, her aptitude for her job) improved, she could not help but notice that she had no more friends than when she had first walked through the bank's doors. Several times, she was on the brink of writing to some of the people she had befriended at Hogwarts, or even her old school friends, but her pride kept her back. She would not fabricate relationships, but they would notice if she did not mention individuals, and news about her job and living situations made for inadequate letters.
She took to eating at her desk, even though she knew most of the Gringotts staff went to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. The Leaky Cauldron could not cater for her delicate palate, she told herself and anyone who would listen. She couldn't bring herself to stomach the awful English food. Besides, she got more work done this way, and she cherished the twenty minutes or so that Goblin Woman spent out with her husband (whom Fleur suspected of being part-troll).
"Excuse me, is Barbara around?"
Fleur looked up and nearly choked on her mouthful of sandwich, recognising the red-haired stranger from her first week. "I am afraid she is 'aving lunch," she said as calmly as she could manage. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, offering him a flirtatious smile. "May I aid you?"
"Help."
She frowned at him, her smile diminishing somewhat. There was no need to waste it on a stupid man. "I do not understand."
He laughed. "Oh, generally we don't ask if we can aid somebody, we ask if we can help them. If you could tell Barbara to stop by Bill's office this afternoon, I'd be much obliged to you, Mademoiselle."
"Fleur," she answered. "My name is Fleur."
"Then I'd be much obliged to you, Fleur." He looked thoughtful, taking in the wrapped sandwich and glass of water on her desk. "Did you eat in here today? You're welcome to come to the Cauldron with us."
Fleur fiddled with her hair. "Oh, I did not 'ave much sleep last night," she lied, affecting a yawn behind her hand. "I 'ave been working very slowly today."
He did not look convinced. "Well, maybe I can come up with something to help you sleep better," he said, winking at her. "I know how intolerable these long, lonely English nights can be to delicate French flowers like yourself, Fleur Delacour."
He had gone before she could do more than gape at him. Surely he was not being as brazen as she thought?
But he knew her full name, which meant he was almost certainly the man she had seen at Hogwarts.
Fleur spent the rest of the day unable to think of anything else. To her disgust, she found herself making excuses to Barbara and running off to the toilets hourly in the hope of bumping into the stranger again. After the third time, she decided she was appalled by her attitude. She never would have behaved like this in France; it was silly to get moony-eyed over the first handsome man she encountered here. She stormed back to her desk – but found her chair already occupied by a large stuffed lion.
"What-?"
"Bill Weasley dropped that off," Barbara said, giving Fleur a disapproving look. "He was going to wait around for you, but I said that you'd be eager to get back to your work."
"Mais oui. Merci, Barbara!" Fleur said, slipping back into French to annoy her overseer. She placed the lion on the floor. It would not do to show signs of weakness in the office, not when she had strived thus far to appear confident and flawless (incidents involving dragon droppings aside).
When she was back in her flat, though, she hugged the lion to her, clutching the thick mane and breathing in the faintly musty smell that suggested the toy had been sitting in a shop for a while.
Barbara had unintentionally given Fleur the information she needed. Before heading to her own office the next morning, Fleur tracked down Bill Weasley. He had an office all to himself, and Fleur glanced around hungrily, wondering exactly what it was he did. There were numerous artifacts around, scrolls and clippings covering almost every available surface.
"Good morning," he said cheerfully. She noted he was sitting on his desk, and smiled at the thought of what Barbara would do if she caught Fleur doing that. "What can I do for you, Mademoiselle?"
"I would like to thank you for all your 'elp yesterday," she said in a low voice, the one that she had found men responded to best. She was sure he had meant to off-balance her by that remark, and she meant to pay him back for it. "I was wondering… eef I am not asking too much… if you would 'elp me more in zat department."
She lifted her eyes in time to see his brows shoot towards his hairline. "Uhh." He blinked several times, swinging his legs back and forth. "Sure, yeah." He directed another of his charming smiles her way. "It'd be my pleasure, Mademoiselle."
"Oh, good! My Eenglish needs some 'elp. I would be 'appy to learn from you." Fleur smirked as she watched understanding flicker on his face, knowing he'd thought she was asking for help with her 'sleeping troubles'.
To his credit, he recovered quickly. "Yeah, great. Uhh, are you free after work?"
She paused, making it look like she was considering it (though she never had anything to do after work). "Yes. You can come to my office." She smiled at him again, triumphant. "You know where it is."
"Yes, Fleur, this is a traditional English picnic, and yes, Fleur, I know what expression you have on your face as you unpack the food my mother carefully prepared for us," Bill said, although, since he was lying down with his hand shielding his eyes, Fleur didn't believe he had seen her expression. The apprehensive look slid right off her face when he mentioned his mother's involvement. That meant he had told his mother about her. She bit her lip, careful not to look too pleased, since he hadn't exactly asked her out yet.
"It was very kind of 'er," she murmured, wincing as she pulled out another set of sandwiches.
"Her," he corrected, leaning up on his elbows. "Huh."
"Huh," she repeated obediently, though she never seemed to be able to pronounce the 'h' sound in a sentence. It was difficult to undo eighteen years of silent hs.
"Very good," he praised, reaching over. She held her breath, but he only grabbed a ham and cheese sandwich and began unwrapping it.
It was getting ridiculous. They would meet up twice a week (thanks to her ingenious English lessons scheme), but he never seemed inclined to develop their relationship further. Fleur herself was very inclined, and made sure to bring an extra set of clothes to work, so he could see her at her best, out of those unflattering Gringotts work robes. It hadn't encouraged him.
Perhaps he preferred brunettes?
She let out a sigh.
"Something wrong?" Bill asked, squinting up at her.
She shook her head, sending him an impatient look. "Nuzzing," she said, although she was perfectly capable of saying 'nothing'. The worse her English appeared, the longer he would have to keep teaching her. She would wear him down eventually.
"Ah, Fleur, I was wondering-"
… Or maybe she had worn him down already.
"Do you know Jasper at work? Jasper Morran?"
Fleur exhaled sharply. She tugged at strands of grass whilst she considered the situation. Either he was trying to set her up, or he was dating Jasper himself. She wasn't sure which she'd rather, but she wouldn't let him 'um' and 'ah' for five minutes before getting to the point. "Bill," she said in a thoughtful voice, ignoring his question.
She'd thrown him off. "Yes?"
"When was it you realised first zat you liked men?"
She had the satisfaction of watching him choke, although her heart was in her mouth as she waited for his answer.
"Uh, Fleur – Fleur – I don't… well, not in the way that I think you mean." He cleared his throat. "Jasper was asking me if you'd like to go out with him, because he knows we're friends."
Well. She reached for a sausage roll, contemplating her answer. "Is eet usual for ze men 'ere to ask a girl for a date through a friend?"
"Not really," Bill replied. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be at all bothered by the fact that a man was asking her out.
"Zen my answer is no, until 'e can ask me out on 'is own."
He shrugged. "I'll let him know. Did you study those verbs that I gave you yesterday?"
Fleur dated Jasper. And Cuthbert, Edmund, Kieran, and Nigel. Her favourite was Edmund, though she continued seeing Jasper because she knew he was friends with Bill.
She expended her energies on keeping her relationship with Bill to that of teacher and pupil, politely refusing his invitations to lunch. It was easier then to only think of him in a teacher manner. In fact, she thought it might have been five hours since she had last thought of him otherwise. She wasn't even sure that his rescuing her from a burning castle constituted as thinking of him differently, since before he had leant down to kiss her, his mouth had opened to emit the sound of her alarm.
Fleur Delacour did not let a man get the better of her.
That didn't stop her from being concerned about him, because she would have been concerned about any of her teachers at Beauxbatons. He fell asleep during two of her lessons in a row, so she left a stuffed bear on his desk at work with a note saying it was to help him rest. He passed no comment on it, but she checked his office later to make sure it was no longer sitting there.
When he fell asleep for the third time, it was in her flat. She did not have the luxury of being able to Apparate away. Instead, she shook him, hard.
"If I am boring you, Bill, we do not need to continue zese lessons," she said dryly, hoping he would correct her.
He blinked, gradually beginning to focus on her. She hadn't bothered to move back, and now she was certain his eyes were on her mouth. "Thanks, Fleur," he said slowly, pulling away from her and yawning. "I just didn't get much sleep last night."
"What were you doing?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.
He avoided her eyes, stretching out. "Where were we? The passive?"
Fleur was interrupted by an owl scrabbling at the window. She unlatched the window to let it in, and it dropped a letter with Bill's name on it at her feet.
"Bill, eet is for you," she said, picking it up and nearly throwing it at him as the owl flew back out the window. It was from his girl, she was sure of it. The girl who was keeping him up all night so he was too tired for Fleur.
He opened the letter, and grinned. "Hey, it's from my mum. My youngest brother's a prefect. Blimey, I didn't think that would happen, not with Harry Potter in his year."
"'Arry is not a prefect?" she asked, astonished. That was ridiculous; the Triwizard Champion, somebody who had beat both herself and Viktor... "But – 'Ogwarts do not believe ze 'orrible papers, no?"
Bill shook his head, folding the letter back up. "Nah, Dumbledore believes Harry. Odd, though. I don't want to sell Ron short, but Harry seemed the obvious choice."
"Of course 'e is! 'E saved my sister!"
"And mine," Bill replied. "Ron's a good sort, though. And I guess Harry was just nearly expelled. Maybe Dumbledore thought it would draw too much attention to him."
Fleur snorted. "Zis man, ze one everybody knows of, 'e will not stop because 'Arry is not a prefect."
Bill regarded her thoughtfully. "You believe he's back, then? Voldemort?"
There was that name again, that stupid name that she could not bring herself to say. It brought all these memories of Cedric back, of the brave, strong boy she had known. She merely nodded in response to Bill's question, her eyes filling with tears.
"There, now, you're all right," he said comfortingly, drawing her into his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around her. "I didn't mean to upset you."
She closed her eyes, leaning her head against him. For a moment, she felt safe again, however wildly her heart had begun to pound. "Of course 'e is back; 'Arry Potter would not lie."
She wasn't keen on moving, but he had other ideas, giving her a final squeeze before letting go. "I'd better be off – sorry, Fleur. Mum wants to have a party for Ron, and if his friend Hermione's not the other Gryffindor prefect, I'll eat my wand."
"Goodbye," she said reluctantly, watching him gather up his things. Bill was obviously not going to invite her along to this party. "Until tomorrow."
He nodded, looking around to see if he'd forgotten anything. "Thanks for my bear, Fleur, I think I forgot to say before."
"It did not work. You are still tired," she pointed out sullenly.
"I'll be less tired tomorrow, I promise," he assured her, and any sulkiness vanished as he kissed her on the cheek. "Bye, Fleur."
She had no opportunity to see how tired he was the following day. In fact, she had no sight of him for a week – and then she was told apologetically that he was too busy to talk to her.
Fleur reacted calmly, on the whole. She did not persist in trying to see him, nor did she attempt to flaunt the fact that she was seeing one of his friends.
(She did cling to the lion at night, but she forgave herself that, since nobody else was aware of it. She knew that the lion was a symbol of bravery in Bill's world, and when she could not be brave, when she felt small and alone, she let the lion be brave for her)
She made friends that she could write about in letters to her family, and she even managed to contact Viktor Krum, having struck up a reasonable friendship with him during the Triwizard Tournament. She debated about writing to Harry, but decided against it. They hadn't really been friends, and she was sure other people could offer better words of comfort.
He obviously needed them. Fleur would read the Daily Prophet to practise her English, and her anger grew with every slight on the hapless fifteen-year-old. Her reading sessions more often than not resulted in the paper being scorched or, sometimes, burnt entirely.
"Barbara around?"
Fleur glanced up and swallowed her curses – apparently along with her voice, for it was several moments before she could tell Bill that Barbara was out for lunch. She returned to the accounts, painfully aware how this resembled their first meeting.
Bill closed the door, unfortunately on his way into the office. "Are you all right, Fleur?"
She nodded, keeping her attention fixed on her work. Her 'Veela charms' had never seemed to have much success with Bill, and she didn't fancy trying them again now.
"You stopped asking for English lessons."
"Yes, I found it razher difficult wiz my teacher running away from me all ze time," she responded coolly, grinding her teeth when he merely laughed at her. "Barbara would not like you sitting zhere."
He stood up, raising an eyebrow at her formal, stiff manner. "I never ran away from you," he told her in a flat voice.
Fleur waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, though rather regretted it when she remembered that hand held a quill, and it did not have quite the flourish she would have liked. "Do not worry yourself, Bill, you are not ze only British wizard around. Barbara enjoys correcting me, I zink she would be miserable if I got any better."
He smiled at her, and she wondered if Bill could be part-Veela, from the way she felt her heart flutter.
"I… heard you finished things with Jasper."
Her lip curled with distaste. Everybody had heard about her finishing with Jasper. That had resulted in quite the scene in Diagon Alley, with Jasper shouting declarations of love after her. It had been a mistake to date him, even in the hope of exciting a reaction from Bill. "Yes. I 'ope 'e feels better now."
Bill shifted his weight from foot to foot, finally gaining her full attention. Was Bill nervous? She didn't think she had ever seen Bill nervous. Before she could ascertain whether he was or not, he had asked her to tell Barbara that he'd dropped by, and left the office.
Weeks went by, and the nature of her relationship with Bill dissolved into a nod here and there when they happened to come across one another. There was the odd stilted conversation, but nothing promising.
(She still held onto the lion at night, but it had become a comfort thing, more than anything else)
Before she knew it, Christmas was almost upon her. Gabrielle had written to her to beg her return for the length of the Beauxbatons holiday, and Fleur acquiesced happily. She was to return home the day after next, but now she was content to stroll through Diagon Alley listening to one of her new friends babble on about… well, Fleur was busy trying to avoid the muddy puddles; snow had fallen overnight and by midday had turned to sludge. She nodded here and there, not caring especially if it were in the right places.
It was only when Jennifer said, "Oh, hi, Bill!" that Fleur began to pay attention. He gave them a weak smile, but did not stop to talk.
"Did you hear?" asked Jennifer, her voice taking on the hushed tones of a gossip. Fleur shook her head mutely. "His father got taken into St Mungo's. Seriously ill, apparently."
Fleur stopped in her tracks, right foot splashing into a pool of melted snow. She barely noticed. "I 'ave 'ad enough walking today," she announced, releasing Jennifer's arm. "I 'ave work to do."
Without waiting for Jennifer to respond, she hurried back to Gringotts, not even removing her outdoor cloak until she reached Bill's office.
"I am sorry," she said breathlessly.
He regarded her coolly. "Okay."
"For your fazzer."
It occurred to her how ridiculous she must seem, running after him like that when they hadn't spoken properly in months. His distant manner was all that kept her from throwing herself at him. He looked like he hadn't slept, his hair and clothes were dishevelled, and his eyes were red.
"Okay."
She lingered in the doorway a little longer, uncertain, and he let out a snort.
"Not going to apologise for ignoring me then?"
Fleur stared at him, astonished. "Ignoring you?"
Bill's lips pressed together tightly. "Months, Fleur. You've been ignoring me for months, you can't deny that." His voice was hoarse, sounding slightly cracked in places.
She fumbled at the ties of her cloak, hoping removing it would get rid of the heated blush she could feel spreading across her cheeks. How could he have thought that she was ignoring him? Honestly. "I wasn't. You…" She frowned, remembering. "You were busy, and busy, and I found friends."
"Over here, we don't drop our old friends for new ones."
She knew it was concern for his father making him speak like this, but the gibe stung as intended. "Stop it, Bill."
"I thought you wanted me to teach you about English customs?" He regarded her, his eyes narrowing. "Or was that just until you found somebody better? That's what you did with Jasper, isn't it? Kept him hanging on till you found somebody better."
Fleur's hands clenched into fists. She had at least had the courtesy to let Jasper know when she had decided to stop dating him, and that had only been because he was Bill's friend. "Would you like to be my Eenglish teacher again, Bill? I do not want a teacher 'oo is always falling asleep during my lessons! Your English snores are no good to me."
A pained look crossed his face. "That was once," he murmured, rubbing his face with his hands.
"Three times," she replied, the indignation leaving her voice.
He sighed heavily. "Maybe you should go."
She folded her arms across her chest. "And you will pretend still zat I am a nasty girl 'oo ignores you?"
"I don't think you're nasty," Bill said, though he wasn't convincing. "I'm sorry, Fleur. It's been a rough few days. I'm not coping as well as I'd like."
"Will 'e be okay?" Fleur asked tentatively.
"Yeah, he's pulling through. Us Weasleys are pretty hard to get rid of." He flashed her a weak smile.
She already knew that, having spent months trying to be rid of him. She was aware that she was subjecting herself to more heartache, but that would be in the upcoming weeks and Gabrielle could distract her. Impulsively, she flung her cloak aside and crossed the room to wrap her arms around him tightly. It was an awkward movement, considering he tensed in his seat.
"You should go," he repeated, quieter this time.
She settled herself on the edge of his desk instead, crumpling pages but not caring. "You are not all right," she said softly. "I would like to… help."
Bill leaned back in his chair, bracing his head against his hands. He must have noticed that she was mastering the 'h' sound, because his face relaxed, the frown vanishing. "It's war," he said, and there was a resignation in his tone that suggested he had thought about this often. "There are casualties in war, that's just the way it goes."
Fleur's fingers gripped the desk corner tightly. War. She had heard about the first time Voldemort had come to power. He had not reached France, but the scars were still deep in Britain – so deep that they still could not voice his name, though they believed him gone. He might not reach France this time. If Britain fell, her family could flee easily, could set up protections. He would be stopped eventually, even if Britain fell.
If Britain fell, Bill might lose all his relations, all his school friends, all his colleagues. For what? For sport, for fun? Because Britain didn't care to see what was in front of it?
Before she could register what she was doing, she had leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Bill's lips.
When Bill pushed her back, she felt as though the bottom was dropping out of her stomach. She didn't think she could feel worse, until he flicked his wand at the door, closing it. Anyone could have seen her kissing him.
"Sorry," she muttered, looking down at her lap. She seemed to be apologising all the time.
"Fleur. Fleur, look at me. It's a dangerous time, and it's only going to get worse. It's risky getting involved with me right now."
"I don't care," she answered heatedly, meeting his eyes. "Anytheeng could 'appen to anyone. Cedric was not involved. It could 'ave been me then."
Bill nodded. "I know, I know. I want to be sure you're aware of what you might be getting yourself into."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? It sounded to me like you were shouting."
He looked sheepish, pulling her off the desk and resting his forehead against her stomach. She stroked his hair, feeling a little light-headed at the speed with which everything seemed to be changing. "I was jealous. I'm sorry. I've been jealous for a little while now, and I guess it all just built up."
Fleur smiled despite herself. "You shouldn't ask me out for ozzer men. Silly boy."
"I resent that," he informed her abdomen.
Before she could retort that she didn't care what he resented, he lifted her onto his lap. "I did just recall a reasonably effective way of silencing impertinent women," he said thoughtfully.
Fleur smiled at him, reaching a hand to toy with his hair. "Per'aps you could use it on Barbara?" she suggested. "She will probably notice I am not at my desk."
"I don't think Barbara would quite appreciate this," Bill informed her, grinning. "You'll have to work that particular problem out on your own. No, this method is best used on cheeky mademoiselles."
She had time to utter, "Per-" before he kissed her.
