Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: This is intended to be something from Deathly Hallows. There is character death in this, and non-descriptive rape, so beware.
For simplicity, Fleur's thoughts are in English - my French isn't that good! Please R&R!
His Beautiful Flower
Fleur had her rolled her sleeves up, not to reveal her pale, slender arms, but to wear some Muggle luminous yellow rubber washing-up gloves.
She had been cooking a dish of Gratin Dauphinois for her husband, Bill, for when he returned. It was meant to be a please-forgive-me gift because she had ungraciously thrown him out.
It was all very stupid really – she could barely remember what it was about. Apparently there was some sort of party for the Order that she didn't know about, wasn't informed of, and wasn't invited to.
She stopped, looking down at her bump longingly.
Fleur sighed. She had refused to join the Order for their baby's safety, so she should get used to not being on the receiving end of the quirks, too.
He had been out for far too long, she thought, glancing up at the magical clock. Thankfully, the longest hand that belonged to Bill was pointing to 'Out'.
Fred, Bill's charming brother, had bought her family a magical clock similar to Mrs Weasley's. Whilst she had felt uncomfortable accepting such a huge gift, he had already kindly personalised it for them with the hands 'Fleur', 'Bill' and 'Le Bébé' it would have been rude not to. He had made it for them for Christmas on the guide that it was an item necessary for anyone starting a family during a war, especially a family so heavily involved with the Order and the Light.
Just as she was vanishing the potato peelings, Fleur heard a soft mechanical grinding noise and sighed in relief. She was just removing her gloves (any excuse to stop clearing up) when she heard the same noise again.
She spun around, her eyes widening. She looked accusingly at the offending clock. Her heart skipped a beat and lodged in her mouth. Fleur was frozen, as if under a curse.
She felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. The small hairs there stood on end. Someone was out there. It would've been foolish to turn the light off now. She was obviously still up, and she needed to act like she didn't know anyone was out there.
As if struck by lightning, she sprung into action. She knew someone was outside and it definitely wasn't Bill.
Fleur's hand had clunked into Mortal Peril along with La Bébé. She was suddenly ungrateful that Fred had felt prudent to add that particular hand those long, 3 months ago.
More to her horror, Bill's hand was swaying back and forth from 'Out' to 'Travelling'.
She had never felt a feeling as terrible as that great wave of hopelessness that had washed over her, freezing her to the spot.
Fleur stared at the clock, tears filling her pale blue eyes and clouding her vision.
She heard a quiet, distant, but ominous crunch of gravel. Bill's hand on that foreboding clock was still swaying.
"Someone's betraying the Order," Remus hissed quietly to Tonks. He wasn't quite sure why, but he didn't feel as safe as he used to in Sirius' old house. He felt as if he was under scrutiny every passing moment and hated to linger.
"S'you reckon it's Snape too?" she asked, sounding relieved.
"Severus?" Remus said, bewildered, "I hardly think so – he really did seem genuine. I don't think it was suspicious at all that he didn't come back straight away to the Order. You know that he wouldn't have been given a fair judging – the only reason anyone half-trusted him in the first place was because of Dumbledore's favourable word.
"I know he's not doing anything," Remus ended awkwardly.
"Don't be so naïve, Remus," Tonks quipped back, shortly.
Remus shook his head. Severus wouldn't… would he?
"So what do we do?"
"I've researched all sorts of charms – including tracking ones. No-one knows for sure who's in the whole Order, apart from some of the older members from last time round. But we've all checked for traces of magical charms on us, and we've picked up nothing!"
"We're all being picked off one by one. It has to be something we've overlooked. A potion, maybe? Do you think you can track someone by getting them to drink something?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Hmmm, now who do we know who's good at potions?" Ron sarcastically added, very unhelpfully. They must have gone through this conversation a thousand times.
"Oh Ronald, don't start that again," Hermione sighed. "I thought we'd agreed that it's as likely Professor Snape is doing it as Professor Lupin is."
"Then we'd better get Lupin checked out too! I just know it's Snape," Ron pronounced, eyes wild.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course you do. Same as you knew it was Snape in our first year, when it turned out to be Quirrell."
"I thought we'd all agreed that Snape was genuine?"
"Only you can judge that Harry," Ron said, not sounding quite genuine. "You were the only one there with him at Godric's Hollow."
"I'm telling you, no-one's that good an actor. Not even Snape! And Dumbledore said that memories were really hard to alter convincingly – Slughorn had loads of trouble with it, and Riddle's was only done simply," Harry reasoned. "And Riddle is the most powerful wizard alive."
"We have to keep Severus away from the children," Molly said to her husband tentatively one morning.
"Severus? Why?" Arthur replied.
"I'm just convinced he's the one leaking those Order secrets. Albus trusted him and look where that got him! It's not that I don't trust Harry or Minerva – it's just that Albus can't have been be right about this."
Arthur rubbed his eyes tiredly. "We've got to trust everyone on our side. It's not that I trust Severus for one minute – I'm sitting on the fence. I've no idea. He's a man of no feelings on the surface, so I find him incredibly difficult to judge. It's so hard to imagine that any other Order member with emotions could be faking it right this minute."
Bill Apparated just outside of the Apparition wards surrounding their home, with a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. He had been living there with his wife, Fleur, for just over six months now.
The flowers were for said wife. They were violet Siberian irises, a perfect bunch for the perfect wife.
He wasn't quite sure how that idiotic argument had started, and all he knew was that he had to end it himself. Bill was sure that Fleur wouldn't, as she could be very stubborn. He knew he could sway her with the beautiful flowers that he had just picked up at a Muggle market, though. She had a weakness for these particular blooms.
There was enough conflict going on to have in on their own side, too. That added to the growing suspicion he had had of a certain Severus Snape, in regards to some mysterious deaths that were increasing in number on their side.
Bill walked up towards the cottage on the grass verge, so as to not startle Fleur whose silhouette he could see in the kitchen.
Fleur couldn't breath. She willed with all her might to make Bill turn back, away, to the safety of the unknown.
Her face was frozen in a silent scream as faced the door, listening to him walk up the verge as he always did after a long day.
Except this day was different.
Fleur had a knife poised on her, ready to be thrown at her back, and a wand trained on her every move.
Her instructions were very clear.
She'd let him in. She'd lock and bolt the door. She'd turn around. She would not attempt to pick up a wand. She'd act like normal.
If she didn't comply, she'd surely die along with her unborn child. She knew if she sacrificed herself and her child's, she wouldn't be saving Bill's. They'd come for him, too.
Fleur felt like throwing up. This was it. They had come for her.
She faced the door, away from who she was sure was a wizard named Sturgis Podmore that must have belonged to the Order.
Bill seemed to walk to the door in slow motion. Fleur's ears were buzzing, and her head was done. She was remembering her wedding day, her first step onto English soil, the birth of her baby sister…
Fleur felt powerless. So she stood there, finally understanding the meaning of the word 'useless'.
Bill knocked on the door.
"Fleur? Can you hear me?"
"Y-yes," Fleur stuttered out. She was all too aware that these may be her last words with Bill.
"Well? Aren't you going to ask me the secret question?"
It all seemed so pointless. And she had to go along with it! She surely was going to scream.
So she asked, "What was the first English word you taught your wife?"
"Garden," Bill said simply. "And how do you like your steak?"
"Rare," she whispered, resting her forehead against the door.
Amazingly, he heard her. Either that or the routine was very well established.
"I passed the test! Can I come in now?"
She slowly opened the door with great trepidation. Bill must have sensed this, as he asked, "What's the matter? Was it about earlier? Listen, I never meant all that stuff. You mean the world to me," he took her hand in his and carried on, "I bought you flowers! Your favourites." And with that he whipped out a bouquet from behind his back.
Once again her eyes filled with tears.
"They're beautiful," she choked out.
"Fl-Fleur? You forgave me, right?"
"Yes. Of course I did, Bill." She looked up at him with pleading eyes, hoping that he would understand. She placed the flowers on the table, and locked and bolted the door.
"Stupefy! Expelliarmus!"
Bill's heart leapt as he turned around, catching Fleur as he let his wand fly out of his pocket. He looked furtively about the kitchen to see who had hexed his wife.
"You!"
"Me."
He was bound and gagged. Bill knew his eyes looked vacant. He knew he had to live on; Fleur would have wanted him to. She loved life, and colours, and flowers.
He would buy a small house with a huge garden. He'd even employ a gardener for her memory, if he ever got out of this alive.
His child was dead. So was his future.
Bill willed his eyes to close. Fleur wouldn't want him to watch, but he just couldn't drag away his gaze. He wanted to see her last moments, even if they were filthy.
It wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be this way!
He poured all the venom and hate he had ever felt into his gaze. His nails were digging into his palms. That filth was raping his wife. Whilst she was unconscious.
Podmore was insane.
"I just had to have you, my pretty," Podmore said almost lovingly, stroking her pale cheek. "If I had known you were with child, I would have paid you a visit sooner."
Bill would have shuddered if his senses hadn't been numbed; he was expecting almost anything.
He should have known, he should have protected her. She was part Veela, so of course every damned Death Eater would be out to get her! How had he failed so miserably?
Bill finally squeezed his eyes shut as that bastard grunted and pulled himself out of his wife.
Tas de merde.
"Avada Kedavra!"
She looked no different. Her beautiful silver head was still lolling around, like some sort of puppet.
He couldn't blame this one on Snape was his last thought before he slowly closed his eyes, never to open them again. I wonder what else he couldn't be blamed for.
His beautiful Fleur. She was gone forever. Nothing would ever appear beautiful to Bill ever again. Tears welled up from behind his closed eyes.
Not long now.
Tas de merde - pile of shit.
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