Title: Pacific Dreams
Author: Screaming Faeries
Summary: Little thought drabble. Fleur struggles with her infidelities. Bill/Fleur/Lucius.
Fleur sat with her legs over the edge of the clifftop in front of her cottage, staring out at the pacific ocean silently.
She was happy.
Was she?
She was successful.
Was she?
She had everthing she wanted.
Did she?
She had two beautiful daughters, with rich, shining strawberry blonde hair and big, beautiful eyes, and she was pregnant with her third child. Bill was delighted when he found out that they were expecting a boy. He wanted to name him Louis.
Bill; the husband that she had so favoured. He was friendly, scruffy, funny, and he made her feel like a person, not just like she was a peice of rare hot candy, like most men did when they laid eyes on her.
She rubbed her bloated stomach.
But there was something wrong, something recently wrong. Or, it would be better to say, someone.
As Fleur strolled back into the cottage, hand on her swollen belly, Bill hugged her from behind, careful to put his arms around her shoulders. She stood still for a moment, before she began to feel the familiar lump in her throat and a prickling behind her eyeballs.
"How are you, Fleur?" Bill, kissing the top of her head.
"Ah...'eet iz...uncomfortable, today, Bill," she drawled out, trying to pull away from her husband before she could burst into tears. "I think, I may 'ave a nap."
"Wonderful idea. I'm going to take Victorie and Dominque for a walk." Bill spun Fleur around and beamed at her, kissing her fully on the mouth before retreating and making his way out of the front door, the two girls appearing from their respective rooms and rushing along after him.
Fleur sighed and sat down in an armchair in their front room. She remembered secret times, times from before she became pregnant. Not long after they moved into shell cottage...when they were hosting for the Order of the Phoneix. Fleur would make excuses, sneak out, to stare into the pacific blue eyes of her coward, her villian, her affair.
Lucius.
A sharp kick from her son made her flinch. She rubbed her stomach soothingly. "Okay, okay, Louis. It 'eez our secret, oui?"
Fleur couldn't deny that she loved Bill, Victorie, Dominque, and she would love her unborn son as much. Malfoy had been a fling, a sweet nothing. It was only on the bluest days on the seafront that Fleur would be reminded of him, of those eyes.
She often wondered if it would be easier to move away from the ocean. And with a small smile, she leaned back in the armchair, awaiting to be greeted by dreams of the pacific.