A/N: Hotel!AU, Muggle!AU. And yes, I also messed with the timeline, so yay! Hope you enjoy, and please leave a review if you did!

QLFC – Round 4

Team: Puddlemere United

Chaser 3: Hotel - interpreted as Hotel!AU

Optional prompts: [character] Fleur Delacour, [colour] Pink, [object] Clock

Betas: Ash Juillet (thank you so much for making what I wrote so much better, once again)

WC: 2,292

~~ a rainy day by the beach ~~

Usually, when people think of July, they think of hot, sunny, wonderful days, full of vacation fun. They don't think constant drizzle, cold wind, and grey skies. However, Normandy, in the west of France, seems not to have gotten the memo, as it is indeed raining.

Bill honestly wonders what he's gotten himself into.

"It'll be lovely!" his superior had told him. "You'll be in France under the sun for two weeks, how wonderful is that?"

It isn't.

Turns out it's raining, and according to the bus driver he chatted with on the way here, it has been for several days and is showing no signs of stopping. It makes his job so much more difficult when it's raining.

"You'll have plenty of time for some tourism, too!" his superior had insisted.

That was another lie. Bill has had a look at his schedule and they've barely left him a moment of rest. Apart from today, that is. Otherwise, he's expected to be at the site from 9 till 7 every single day of the week apart from the Sunday in the middle of his trip.

"And we're even booking you a nice little hotel!" his superior had exclaimed as if that was the best part of the deal.

Well, they had bloody better book him a hotel, given all the things they're making him do! They haven't even borrowed a car for him, and he's expected to get around by public transport in the middle of rural Normandy.

As he makes his way through the drizzle, Bill can't help but think of Egypt. Egypt was a lot more fun. True, it was sweltering hot, but at least he was with a bunch of friends, staying at some nice rental place, and they worked hard, but they also spent plenty of time sight-seeing and hitting the clubs. Now that was what he calls a nice business trip. Not this sorry excuse of a 'holiday by the beach'. If he wanted rain, he would've stayed home in London.

But he's not in Egypt anymore, while his friends still are. He isn't really allowed in Egypt anymore, 'for his own safety and well-being'. Bill knows this is what is making him so pessimistic and bitter. He's usually chill and laid-back, ready to see everything in a positive way; he's a glass half-full sort of guy. But, he really can't be bothered today, even if he knows this negativity isn't like him at all.

Finally, after following the signs, he finds his hotel, and though he tries to see the 'nice little hotel', he can't help but think that this place looks really tacky. There are garden gnomes, seashells stuck to the doors, and the shutters are painted pink.

'Nice little hotel.' Bill decides that his superior thinks Bill is an idiot.

Reluctantly, he pushes the door open, convincing himself that at least he'll be some place dry, and hopefully slightly warmer than this pathetic excuse of 'summer.' The door chimes ring through the landing, and he notices that there's even more pink inside. Pink walls, pink curtains, pink flowers. You'd think a sea-side hotel would have more blue.

But then he sees her.

Fleur has been sitting at the reception desk for the most mind-numbingly boring two hours of her life. There's nothing to do, apart from some English work she's promised herself she'll attempt. She hasn't even opened the book yet. She's starting university in London in the fall, and she really needs to improve her English, even if it is already pretty good. But she can't bring herself to do anything but look at the tacky pink clock nailed to the wall on top of the door, ticking away.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It's raining outside. It has been for the last month and shows no signs of stopping any time soon. Some summer this is turning out to be.

Alright, maybe Fleur is exaggerating just a tad. There are some nice days from time to time, and when they do come, they are truly wonderful. There are tourists everywhere, on the beach, in the streets, in the restaurants. This rainy little seaside village becomes one of the stock pictures for postcards the same tourists will send home claiming that it was sunny like this every single day. But it has been continuously raining for the past three days. And even on those glorious sunny days that have all the tourists jumping for joy, Fleur can't go out.

When her aunt and uncle asked if she'd be interested in working the season at their sweet little hotel on the coast of Normandy, Fleur immediately agreed. The pay was good, she needed the experience, and she figured working at a hotel would be fun.

It wasn't.

On those rare and lovely summer days, Fleur has to work at the hotel. What was fun at first is now more than boring, and no matter the weather, there's always something for her to do. Serve breakfast, clean the rooms, sweep the lobby, stay at the desk for hours on end…

Most of the guests have either left early this morning to go visit the rock museum Fleur's uncle keeps suggesting whenever it rains, or they have ventured out to find some lunch. Most will stay out until tonight, probably doing a spot of shopping, or even daring a walk on the beach despite the rain.

Tick. Tock. Tiiiiiick. Tock.

She's even had the time to notice the clock lags every thirteen seconds for some reason, which just goes to show how bored she is. It's not even as though she's waiting for anything, or anyone. She's not desperately waiting for her day to be finished so that she can go and do other things. No. She's just watching her youth disappear down the drain with the rain.

For some reason, it's oddly soothing, just watching the needle move slowly around the clock. It helps her ignore the dirty foot tracks in front of the door she really should be cleaning, as well as the guilty feeling she gets when she ignores her English work.

But then, the little chimes set above the door ring and startle her out of her trance.

And that's when she sees him.

She has the bluest eyes he's ever seen. And that's saying a lot, because most of his family members have blue eyes. Some blue eyes are terribly boring; they have no life in them. But hers… it's like there's fire burning in them, or something. It's utterly cliché, but for some reason, quite true.

"Puis-je vous aider?" she asks in the most perfect French he's ever heard.

Then, he mentally slaps himself, because of course she's going to speak perfect French. They're in bloody France. Bill's French skills, on the other hand, are less than wonderful.

He racks his brain for whatever remnants of the language he possibly still has. But the best he can come up with is, "J'ai un réservation? Avec Bill Weasley?"

He watches her cringe at his poor attempt at French — he's about 85% sure he's used the wrong preposition — and then sighs. "Oh, bloody hell, this is never going to work."

She perks up when she hears this. "English?" she asks.

"Yes!"

She smiles. "What can I do for you, monsieur?"

"I've got a reservation under Bill Weasley."

She nods. "Can I have proof of identity, please?" She has a bit of a French accent when she speaks, but he thinks it's quite endearing.

He hands over his passport, and she examines the information. He sees her looking at his picture. It's from two years ago, but he didn't have the scars, not yet. She's been staring at them. They are hard to ignore, he can acknowledge that. But she isn't looking at them with disgust, or pity, but rather, mere curiosity. Like she wants to know more.

"Bill?" she asks.

"Oh, yes. It's a nickname for William," he tells her.

She gives the passport back to him. "Here you go."

"Thank you" – he sees a pin on her shirt with her name on it – "Fleur."

"You're welcome." The corners of her mouth lift into a smile, and he can't help but think that it truly lights up her face in the most cliché way, and makes her deep blue eyes shine. She's not just pretty, she's beautiful. "And here's your key, room 102."

Bill takes it from her, but then he hesitates. He doesn't feel like going up to his room just yet. After all, it is his afternoon off, and he doesn't really have anything to do, given the rain. He'd rather stay in this suffocatingly pink room and make small talk with 'Fleur.'

"So, any nice places to visit around here?" he asks. Fleur is surprised but delighted that 'Bill' wants to stay and talk with her. Or at least, that's what she's convinced herself he's doing.

He's one of the most intriguing men she's ever met, and that's saying a lot. Men are attracted to her like flies to a pot of honey, because of her looks. She gets whistled in the streets a lot, which is just outrageous. But still. Because of her beauty, she's met quite a few intriguing men. The one in front of her has got flaming red hair, freckles all over his nose, and scars down the side of his face. Fleur's been staring, which she knows is bad, but she can't help herself. She's just so curious.

But, she doesn't really want him to go, so she figures she may as well make everything sound extremely unappealing, so that he stays just a while longer. "There's the rock museum in the village."

"The rock museum?" He frowns a little. "I… I don't know. Anything else?"

"You could always go and walk on the beach. There's supposed to be a nice view on clear days, not that I've seen it," she tells him, purposely insisting on the rain. Wouldn't it be nice if he stayed at the hotel and just chatted with her? She's not sure her uncle would approve, but she doesn't even know where he is.

"I'm not sure," he tells her, and she smiles to herself when she sees he doesn't want to go. Maybe this rainy day could turn out better than she had initially planned.

"So, what are you doing here in Normandy?" she asks. "You don't seem very interested in tourism."

"I'm actually on a business trip," he says.

"Business trip? In Normandy?"

Fleur is surprised. No one goes on business trips in Normandy. There's nothing to see apart from cows. But, then again, maybe he works in dairy for all she knows

"Yeah, I'm an archaeologist."

"Archéologue?" she echoes. "Wow."

He shakes his head. "Nothing impressive. There are just a few Norman vestiges not too far from here, and my university sent me on the job."

Fleur still thinks it's impressive. After all, maybe she's going to study archaeology too, one day. She's going to be studying history in one of the best universities in London, to start off with, because she's not entirely sure yet it's what she wants to do. Either way, she finds 'Bill' more and more intriguing by the minute.

"You don't seem too happy about it," she comments.

"Ehh. It's okay. It's just the rain makes everything more complicated, and I'd rather be in Egypt."

"And can't you be in Egypt?"

Bill shrugs once more. "Work accident. They think it's better if I stay away."

Fleur can't help her big mouth and blurts out most inelegantly, "Is that why you have the scars?"

He recoils, only slightly, and Fleur feels like an absolute idiot. A lot of people find her off-putting because she isn't scared to ask questions and comment on everything with little to no filter. She's been working on it, but it's just that she's curious. Still. She knows she shouldn't just say things like that.

"I'm sorry, I say things before I think," she quickly says.

He shakes his head and smiles. Fleur feels a tiny bit better. "No, no. It's fine. But yeah, these happened with an excavation gone wrong. Bunch of silly mistakes."

Fleur nods. "Ah, oui, I fell really badly during a school trip once, to Scotland. Broke my leg, I don't think they would've let me go on another one."

Real shame, too. It was a lovely trip to Scotland, and she'd had a lot of fun. Thankfully it had been her last year, so she wasn't supposed to go on any other trips.

There's a moment of silence during which they both consider each other. The clock ticks in the background, but the silence is not an uncomfortable one. It's more like two acquaintances, friends even, chatting with one another.

"Well, I'd best bring this up to my room," he says, gesturing awkwardly at his bag, and Fleur nods.

"Yes, c'est une bonne idée," she agrees, though of course, she doesn't want this to happen at all.

"But maybe…" he starts and Fleur perks up at the sound of his voice.

She sees him straighten up a little bit, a whisper of a smile teasing his lips. His voice is huskier when he suggests. "Maybe I could come back down, and we can talk more about unfortunate accidents?"

She laughs, so does he. It's a deep laugh, the type that fills up a room easily and chases the rainy clouds away. "That would be nice," she tells him.

Fleur watches him leave and smiles to herself. She can hear the tick-tock of the clock in the background, but now, she counts the seconds impatiently, waiting for him to come back.

Puis-je vous aider: Can I help you?

Monsieur: Sir

Ah, oui: Ah, yes

Archéologue: Archeologist

C'est une bonne idée: That's a good idea