For Quidditch. Pardon my French.
.,.
The sun hung low in the sky. Rain dripped from leaves, lingered on the blades of the grass hunched over the moist, ground that squelched at every footfall. Screams echoed off the hills and bounced in your ears. Fleur knew, she had heard her own words thrown back at her in more ways than one the past few weeks.
Bill had been upset. Since the end of the war, the final battle, and the last day of his brother's life and several close friends, Bill had been in deep mourning. In her own heart Fleur grieved all of the losses taken. She had stood at the graves of many friends, family members, and others as they were lowered into the ground. Paid her respects and continued on. Fought through the grief while attempting to live as normally as possible.
But for Bill, it was crippling.
Fleur tried to help him back, keep him from sinking too far, held his head above the water while she stood knee deep in it herself. But soon she left him be. Retired from the shouting matches held at the losses of patience.
A week before the end of December, Fleur visited her sister in their home country.
On the doorstep Fleur waited in a big coat and a fluffy knitted hat. Excitement did backflips in her heart. She had longed to see her sister for so long. It felt like years since she had seen her dazzling smile. In moments the door opened wide. It revealed a young woman with a sweater that hung loose on her frame and silver hair that fell to the small of her back.
"Oh!" Gabrielle gasped. Her eyes began to shine brilliantly, eyelashes wowing her as they widened. "Ma colombe!"
Fleur replied immediately, "Oui! Comme je vous l'ai raté mon trésor!"
They hugged and kissed tearfully. No sooner than they had begun to delve into the tales of the past few months did their mother appear. Arms full with basket of warm pastries. She had a similar reaction as Gabrielle.
Fleur said, voice muffled in her mother's shoulder, "Mama!"
Her mother embraced her for a long while, babbling excitedly about how long it had been, the way she had felt, and how she had missed her. The rest of the night passed softly, like the fall of a reddened leaf from a withering tree.
Sometime later, when everyone had turned in for the night and the tea was going cold, two sisters sat in the light of a fire. For a good while they had been engaged in small talk. Gabrielle did most of the talking. Fleur offered only small bits when the time came. Or questions to keep her talking while she sipped at her tea.
But soon they came to the larger picture.
"Oh, Fleur. What of Bill? Do you not love him anymore?" Gabrielle directed a curious, yet sad gaze unto her sister.
Tears sprung to her eyes at the question. Gabrielle avidly believed in love. True love. She held her sister and her husband's relationship as the epitome of that belief.
"The opposite." Fleur cracked a sad smile. "We have grown apart, this is true, but I still love him."
"Then what keeps you apart?"
"He is very sad. We all are, you know," Fleur gestured vaguely at the last word. She hoped that the message got across. Gabrielle nodded in understanding. "But he is sadder than some."
"Grief ridden. Like the others."
Fleur nodded gravely. It was a moment before Gabrielle spoke again.
"I think you should go back to him and… help him."
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that I think you should try to make him okay again."
"I know. Of course, you are right." Fleur sighed lightly. "You always know well."
Fleur motioned her over and Gabrielle set her tea down on the table before taking a seat with Fleur. The loveseat barely sagged at her weight.
"You're so light. Like a ballerina."
"I remember when mama said I would have made the most beautiful ballerina."
"And you wouldn't believe her," Fleur added with a smile.