Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, ya'll should have this down by now!
There is French in this one. It's a Bill/Fleur one. If you don't know French just use an online translator. ~May
Chapter 3- Three French Veela
On the Third Day of Christmas my true love gave to me, THREE FRENCH VEELA, TWO AMAZING FRIENDS, and a DIAMOND RING WITH A LIGHTNING SCAR!
It was Christmas in the Weasley household, no not at the Burrow-though by all means it was Christmas there as well-but at Shell Cottage. A very pregnant Fleur was currently chasing a small blond girl around the house while Bill attended to the Christmas dinner, leftovers from the night before at the Burrow.
"Bill!" Fleur cried out as she nearly fell over from exhaustion.
"Don't do too much amour," Bill whispered lowering her down into the couch.
"'Ow does she 'ave so much energy?" Fleur questioned him, rubbing her lower back gently.
"I guess that would be my faute," Bill laughed slightly at Fleur's puzzled expression. "The Weasley's are known for their surplus of energy."
"Don't I know it." Fleur gave her husband a seductive smile.
"None of that until that bébé is out of your stomach." Bill teased, trying and failing to glare at his wife.
"Alright." Fleur sighed; glad she could rest for a while.
"Victiore, can you fetch your mother a blanket?" Bill called through the house; a small 2 year-old poked her head around the doorframe with an impish grin.
"Of course Papa." Victiore replied before running for the closet which held extra blankets and things.
After a few moments a muffled cry came from the general direction of the closet. Bill walked to the sound to find Victiore poking her blond head out of the top of a fallen blanket; she looked extremely like a dollop of whipped cream. Bill let out a loud barking laugh before scooping up his daughter and carrying her into Fleur who grinned at the sight.
"Ah, my beautiful, fouetté crème fille." Fleur whispered in French; Bill settled down on the couch making an adorable picture if one were to have a Kodak muggle camera on them at the time.
"My two French Veela," Bill whispered pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads.
"Three," Fleur corrected patting her large baby bump.
"My three French Veela," Bill amended pressing a kiss to Fleur's stomach as well. This was surely a Christmas to remember.
