The next morning found Fleur still giggling over the werewolf incident. Morning sunlight hit her eyes, awakened her, and sent her into another fit of laughter. The memory of the surprised Bill and Remus scampering off like puppies in the wake of herself and Nymphadora was too much. She had not had that much fun in months. And to think she had pretty much left Bill to do his own thing when the full moon came.
The full moons of this marriage had always been rather lonely. Sure, there was something most incredibly sexy about marriage to a werewolf, but that didn't change the fact that the nights were lonely. All the other women nearby had no idea what it was like. She couldn't pester them.
Goodness, had she enjoyed spending a little time with Nymphadora? Well, why not? There was nothing wrong with a little socializing, and there were so many silly muggles around that another witch, any witch, was a blessing.
Her laugher did not awaken Bill. He just lay next to her, practically dead, his mouth partially open. He must have only recently got in. The lycanthropy was very draining.
She planted a kiss on his cheek. She had seen people's heads turn at the sign of the scars on Bill's face, but she loved them. Scars were sexy, yet very few men could pull them off the way Bill did. She loved every single one of them.
Bill muttered something in his sleep. He would be in bed for at least half the day.
Boredom again.
She pushed away her share of the blankets. A good portion of the quilt her grandmother had given her fell to the ground. Eh, Bill could fix it later. She pulled out her exercise mat for her morning pilates.
Bill just slept on. Nothing new.
Once that portion of her morning was out of the way, she headed to the bathroom for her traditional shower and bubble bath. She brushed the tangles out of her hair as the bathtub filled, pink bubbles already rising into the air (There was no beating magical bubble bath). And this was from France. She didn't miss France as much as she thought she would—she had always believed a girl should be with her husband—but there were just too many things upon which the French had the monopolies. The tangles came loose with the slightest touch of the brush. Veela blood came with such perks. She pulled off her pajamas and underwear, headed toward the tub—and didn't make it.
Fortunately the toilet was where it was. She shoved the seat up and pressed her face over the bowl, gagging in some hope of making the sudden nausea go away.
She sat there for ten minutes, head light. Goodness. Where had that come from? And how attractive was this? A beautiful girl like her, naked and puking into a toilet. How unrefined.
The bath water was not nearly as warm as she wanted by the time she got around to getting into it. But it was hardly cold, and the bubbles were still around. She just had to shut her eyes and relax a little…
Echoes of pounding against the front door sure could reach far. Fleur tried to ignore the sound, but it did not do much good. And with Bill zonked out to everything… she bit back the urge to swear and grabbed a towel and robe.
It was Nymphadora at the door, pink hair pulled back with a sweatband. "Good morning!"
It had been a decent morning until the nausea and the ruined bath. Fleur sent her most withering glare.
But it did not seem to faze Nymphadora. She just grinned. "You're not a morning person, are you? Heck, I'm not surprised. I never pegged you as one."
"I was in ze middle of a bath." Fleur gestured at her sopping hair.
"My bad." Not a hint of apology in her voice. "I actually wanted to know if you wanted to join me on my morning run."
"I already did pilates."
"But you haven't managed to get to the shower portion of the cleansing ritual, so come on!"
That was a surprise. Fleur hadn't expected Nymphadora to participate in bath/shower morning rituals.
Nymphadora continued. "Listen, I don't mean to demand we be utterly chummy just because we had fun last night, but I was starting my run and I just wanted you to come along."
But Fleur did have fun last night. She still kept her frown. "I don't know…" She had never had someone be this friendly to her. French girls didn't act this way.
"Come on. If your husband is anything like mine, Bill won't mind."
The girl was persistent. "Nymphadora, I don't really run…"
"It's Tonks. And you will never learn to run if you don't start now. We'll stop in the Muggle village and get smoothies!"
"Smoothies?"
"Yes. Fruit and wheat germ and who knows what else. They're good and non-fat, if you go to the right place."
It was against her better judgment, but in five minutes Fleur was back at the door in the only clean and decent running outfit she could make out of her closet. Nymphadora was stretching on the lawn.
Fleur didn't know a single thing about running. It had not been required for the Triwizard Tournament back in her school days. But Nymphadora—Tonks—seemed so into it. She took her place on the lawn and tried to imitate some of Nymphadora's odd moves. Bending the leg in places the leg shouldn't be bent… it did not seem proper.
"Have you done lots of running?" she asked.
Nymphadora nodded. "Oh, yeah. I started when I was a teenager. I used to run around Hogwarts grounds. It's great exercise."
"How far can you run?"
She shrugged. "I've never done it professionally or measured myself, but I guess pretty far."
"An' you promise you won't go too fast?"
"Fleur, I will not leave you in the dust. Let's go!" And then she was off, bolting down the dirt road.
Fleur let out a scream of frustration and chased after her. Almost immediately the fatigue hit her legs—it was like running into bricks. "Tonks!" It was such an ugly name to say.
Nymphadora Tonks slowed down. "Oops. Sorry. I didn't know you hadn't run before."
"It iz not proper to run!"
She just laughed. "Fleur, I will make a runner out of you yet. Seriously, I will go slower." She took herself down to a jog. "Pump your arms like this. It helps."
It just made Fleur feel like a fool. "It does help?"
"It helps with balance and gives you a better work out. And it doesn't make you look as dorky."
Well, if she was the runner… "I don't think I can go very far."
For some reason, Tonks cackled at that. "Just a little further. We'll run to that willow down there."
The willow seemed painfully far away. "I can't…"
Exhaustion sprang from nowhere. Fleur gasped as she slid into the ground—getting dirt all over her lovely pants.
Nympha—Tonks slid to a stop. "Whoa! You just ran yourself into the ground. I'm impressed."
"You are impressed?"
"You went a lot further than Remus ever did."
Fleur smiled against her will. "Really?"
"Yes. I plan to make both of you excellent runners. And I think you'll get that first."
Competition. Fleur had always been a sucker for competition. She gasped for air, then climbed up. "Let's keep running."
Fleur was a sweaty mess by the time they got to the village. Fortunately she didn't look any worse than the other Muggle runners. Was she the only one not into running? "Nymphadora—"
"Tonks."
She sucked in more air and nodded. "Tonks. All we have in zis village is a tiny market. The tiniest market you will ever see."
Tonks just shrugged.
"Eh, then we can get bottled smoothies. My dad is a huge fan of
them."
They entered the market. It was large enough to only
accommodate the most basic of needs. Which was good, because Fleur
would never understand Muggle business. She always kept Muggle
money, because she did have to come to this market every now and
then, but it was still just so… pathetic.
The bottled smoothies were kept in the dairy section—even though most of the drinks had nothing dairy about them.
She was just so thirsty. She selected her drink, ripped off the cap, and chugged. Oh, it was so good! And on sale, too.
Maybe it was the light-headedness from running. Maybe it was because the silly Muggle manager was staring at them—Muggles did not understand fashion. Maybe it was just her.
"Nymphadora Tonks Lupin," she began. "I can't believe you did that."
"Did what?" The natural reply.
"You've created a scandal," Fleur said icily—and with a wink. "To do what you did wit' Monica's husband…"
For a moment it didn't seem Tonks would catch on. But then… "Maybe if you hadn't decided to steal my own husband away from me!"
Fleur faked shock. "That louse of yours came on to me! I had no'thing to do with it!"
"Liar!" Tonks' voice rose a good octave.
"Slut!" Fleur shot back.
"Monica doesn't deserve her husband, anyway! The behavior she puts on, every time the milk man comes around…"
The few occupants of the store were certainly getting a good show for their shopping pleasure.
Fleur marched to the counter and threw down what she hoped was a reasonable amount of Muggle money. "I have half a mind to tell Monica right now! For both of us, sir. Because I have enough class to buy someone a drink!"
The cashier quickly grabbed the money.
"I will reveal what you did at Betty's party!" Tonks screamed.
More faked shock. "You wouldn't dare!"
By the time they managed to get out of the shop, someone named Louise had an illegitimate child.
They didn't dare burst out into hysterical laughter until they were well away from the village.
