As I stood staring at the shirtless man standing in my bedroom, who was staring back at me with an expression of utter disbelief and shock - a mirror image of my face, I am sure - I had to admit that I was wrong. Totally and utterly wrong, and not to mention completely foolish. Completely foolish to think that this day cannot get any worse and that it was finally over. Even though it was past midnight, it seemed like the day was not done with me yet. It had taken me almost five hours to get the image of this particular set of sparkling blue eyes - though, shining with guilt and apology then - out of my head, and just when I thought that I had managed that near impossible feat, I find those same sparkling blue eyes staring back at me; shining like dark sapphires in the dim light of my bedroom. In my bedroom! I couldn't even grasp the threads to connect how I managed to myself here? Oh, of course, the Boggart. Just another star in my already shining day. As if, I wasn't already having the most wonderful - horrendously wonderful - day of my life, first, by getting late for my first day at work and having to endure those nasty goblin tantrums, second, getting a cold shoulder from the guy who had not only managed to get my heart fluttering with just a glance two months ago, but who also turned out to be my boss at Gringotts, then getting ignored from that same guy the whole time I was working in his office, topping it all with the spectacular icing, that was currently what I was supposed to call home, with a perfect cherry of a Boggart jumping out of my writing desk. I suppressed a sigh at my own thoughts of comparing this awful day to a pastry. I had left Gringotts hoping that by separating myself from the source of my unsettled thoughts - and of course, by getting a good night's sleep, my mother's answer to stress, in the process - will help me find my equilibrium back again. But of course that was, clearly, too much to ask from this day. I knew this, as soon as I had reached my destination, also known as; the place I was supposed to call home. When Madame Maxime had said that the apartment that she had managed to arrange at such short notice was, at best modest, and at worst inhabitable; I had thought that she was just being her snobbish self because, of course anyone who has known Madame Maxime knew that her standards about accommodations were high enough to make white Gringotts building green with envy. But as it turned out, she wasn't just exaggerating about the state of the things this time. My apartment, for which I am supposed to pay 20 galleons per a week, was a warehouse turned apartment building above a tiny cauldron shop called Benign's world of leak proof cauldrons. The only acceptable point that I had so far managed to find about the place is that it is just around the corner from Gringotts. As I had stepped into the cobwebbed living room with a small, and abnormally straight backed owner of the shop and apartment Mr. Benign through the cluttered cauldron shop, it was obvious to me that the place has been uncared for, for longer than my O.W.Ls. the gray paint on the walls, which was probably white at some point was peeling from each and every corner, the furniture in terrible need for repairs. The place had a wet, mouldy air to it with its tiny and grubby rooms and dim lights. The bedroom wall looked like a lone brick wall was put up on the one fourth of the living room to build separate room containing a single bed with, thankfully, clean sheets, an old writing desk and chair and a tiny wardrobe. The bedroom where, incidently, now stood the shirtless man, with wand in hand. It had taken me the whole evening to clean most nook and grainy corner of the apartment even with flick of a wand, flicking it more time than i cared to count, until I had finally collapsed on the creaky bed, tired and decided to skip the dinner. I might have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew was opening my eyes to utter darkness in the room and to the sound of a dull thump from a still dusty writing table by the window. I knew at once what was banging in the desk with those dull thuds, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened once I had released the Boggart to get rid of it. I had practiced with boggarts inneumerous times at school but there, I always had a teacher or a fellow classmate to help me with it. Facing it all alone was as scary as the real event of Cedric Diggory's death, maybe even more, as then I had the whole school around me and to catch me as I had fainted once again, this time with shock, after seeing the lifeless body of my competitor. Seeing that cold body with open, lifeless eyes, I had not realized that I had cowered in the corner while scream had left me. Only when I felt wetness of my tears getting cold on my cheeks had I realized that I had been crying all along. Steeling myself, I was about to visualise something - anything - humorous in my most wretched nightmare when someone had barged in my room, freezing at the sight of the body of a young boy on the floor. The lights were too dim for me to see his face, which was angled away from me, and towards the boggart. Somewhere outside a night bird had crowed, giving me an inspiration and raising my wand I had managed to turn boggart into a scarecrow, which had immediately popped into body of an older woman who looked oddly familiar from my angle, but I couldn't place her plump figure and bushy dark hairs. But this, apparently, had made the guy standing near it snap into action, for he had raised his wand and turned the boggart into a balloon, which then led for boggart to turn its attention to me. On and on we had gone, until I stepped out of the refuge by the wall, confusing it to such an extent that it exploded with loud bang. I had been ecstatic, turning to my companion to congratulate and thank him, looking as he did the same, turning his head towards me, only for both of us to freeze the moment our eyes met. As I reeled in the shock of seeing none other than William Weasley standing in my bedroom, shirtless, he shook his head, frowning, and asked in a soft voice, "Fleu- Ms. Delacour? What, in the Merlin's name, are you doing here?" His question snapped me out of my shock as I blinked and then narrowed my eyes. He was the one standing in my apartment - in my bedroom! - shirtless. Shirtless! And he is asking me of what I am doing here? I tried to let anger flow through me to tamper down the fear of witnessing my worst nightmare while I answered, "Moi?! Tu asking me what I am doing een moi- my own appartement?" I know I have miserably failed to sound angry when my voice sounds trembling and hoarse even in my own ears. He, apparently, hears it too because his eyes softened a little, as does his voice as he turns fully towards me, oblivious to his shirtless state and says, "So, you are my new next door neighbour." It takes a few moments for his words to register, as my eyes and mind are busy, greedily taking in his spectacularly broad chest, all that long, lean and glorious strength of his arms and biceps, his narrow waist and light sprinkle of, what I now know to be, red hairs. When the words finally register, however, my eyes snap to his almost navy blues at the moment and I ask in stunned voice, "Neighbour? You leeve 'ere? Een zees buildeeng?" Nodding he replies, "On the same floor, actually. The only other apartment here. I heard your scream through my wall when I was cha-" he stopped abruptly, and glanced down to his naked torso, as if only just realising that he was standing in front of me shirtless. He cleared him throat and shifted from one foot to another, looking as if he would like nothing more to make a run for the door. For some reason, I find his plight slightly amusing, and for the first time since the boggart had jumped out of the desk, I find myself relaxing even in the company of my half undressed boss. I really should stop thinking about his state of undress, and stop staring at the same. Then something occurred to me. "Tu ente- I mean, you 'eard me scream? 'Ow? And from where? Our por- doors are veery far apart for you to 'ear me, eesn't eet?" Now he looks downright mortified, almost squirming with embarrassment. But he looks at me with a raised eyebrow, as if wanting to see my reaction, and say, "We share a wall Ms. Delacour. The wall behind you? I, too, have my bedroom on the other side of it." I feel my jaw drop. We share a bedroom wall! I blink. We share a bedroom wall? As if looking at him at Gringotts and having to act normal around him wasn't enough, as if the knowledge that he lives in same building, same floor as mine wasn't enough of a torture; but of course, we have to have a shared bedroom wall! I wasn't sure now that it was just this day, or my luck that had taken a turn for worse. I came to Gringotts because I thought that working with goblins will make me feel confident that I am judged on basis of my merits, and not because I have an enchantment around me that has created the illusion of love and perfection, live at a place where nobody I knew will be around me and where I can prove to myself and the others that I am not some hottie - snotty brainless veela who always needs a shoulder and a wand of a Knight in shining robes to survive. But instead, I got to have one young wizard amongst a thousand goblins as my boss, who, instead to falling in love, or even liking me, seems to have developed a dislike of me almost as much as the goblins, who happens to live in same grubby building as mine, on the same floor and now shares the same bedroom wall with mine. Seeming satisfied with my reaction, he let his gaze take one last sweeping glance around my bedroom, then looking at me again, gave me a smile that said he knew exactly how the news of shared wall has affected me and said, "Well Ms. Delacour, seeing as you are new here, feel free to ask for any assistance if required. You just have to holler if you need something, and I'll hear you" And with those words and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he turned towards my bedroom door, apparently at ease with his half naked self now that he has stunned me into silence, and let himself out of it. I follow, for once not able to think of any sassy comeback for which I had earned a reputation at Beuxbatons. As we reach the door and he stepped out of my apartment, he turned and said, "Oh, and may I suggest you secure your door better? I was able to get through it with the simplest of the spell. This area is not famous for it's security Ms. Delacour, and with the times like these, you can never be too careful." With that he turned and walked up to his door and waited until I closed my door, after which I heard his apartment door shut quietly. If anyone else had advised me to secure my doors better, I would have just flipped my hairs and said on his face that my mother is in Paris and I don't need one here in Britain, but something about his concerned eyes, his face devoid of all the previous humor and mischief, and his sweet thoughtfulness to jump to my rescue before and to keep watching at me while I closed my door before he closed his, had me raising my wand - which I still clutched unconsciously in my hand after getting rid of boggart - and casting a few hexes and spells that I knew, to secure my door, before retracing my steps to bedroom again, all the while thinking that he couldn't really hate me if he was that concerned about my safety. As I slip out of my robes and lie down on my single bed mattress, I feel all the excitement of the day washing over me in a huge tidal wave of exhaustion. Keeping my eyes lids open felt way too much of a job, so letting them shut as I float somewhere between consciousness and dark oblivion. I didn't know if it was my imagination or reality, but I felt like I could hear faint rustling from other side of the wall, as I drift towards peaceful oblivion, vaguely wondering why I had a smile on my face if having him on the other side of the wall was that bad a luck.
The goblin at the reception desk gave me a nasty look as I pass my wand to him for the day's registration. He swiped my wand on the open parchment in front of him and then returned it to me with a look that told me I was not going to like whatever he was about to say. It was a Saturday of a very long first week and if this goblin messed with me today, even I had no idea what I would do. In the same gravely and slightly nasally voice he said, "Ah, Ms. Delacour. I see we finally managed to get here on time, eh? Good thing too as when the bank opens for clients at 10 am, it gets too crowded to find your way to the right place. I don't suppose you need assistance to find your office, having been visiting it all week?" His words indicated a polite query to assist a new employee, but the tone of his voice gave the exact opposite meaning to his words. He wanted to make sure that I know of his opinions on my sense of directions and ability to find a way to reach my destination, also nastily commenting on my memory and indicating my helplessness. Gritting my teeth, I am about to answer him as to where to shove his offer of help, when a deep masculine voice speaks up from somewhere behind me. "Now now, Noles I do not think Ms. Delacour here needs any kind of assistance finding her office; but if she does, I'll make sure to lend my assistance to her." I turn and see Bill is standing right behind me, close enough to overhear our conversation but still far enough to be considered respectable. He is in another one of his rock concert outfits, but in bottle green colour. It has been almost a week since our encounter in my room, an awkward week of polite smiles and professional exchanges. Everyday, I somehow manage to either get to work before him - being already engrossed in work, by the time he makes it to the office - or miss him by a few minutes, leading to him being swamped with work till then. Everyday I would wait for him to return to his apartment so I could some how remove this awkward barrier from between us by being a friendly neighbour and coworker to him, but most nights he would come so late that it would make me look downright stalker to walk up to his apartment with any excuse. Many nights, I even suspected that he didn't return home, having been listening for any movement in his room through my wall and not hearing any. Vaguely, I even wondered if he had a girlfriend to keep him busy enough to not return home a few nights, but dismissed that awful-for-some-reason thought immediately. I had hoped that our English sessions might prove to be an ice breaker, but so far we had been so swamped with work that none of us has managed to find any free time for a session yet. Looking up at him now, the I-can-take-care-of-myself part of me jumps up to snap at him for defending me, as I did not need people coming to my rescue all the time, but looking at the pleasant yet steely look on his face makes me swallow my protests. Something in his demeanor is screaming at Noles that, I am trying to keep it pleasant, but you need to back off now. Seeming to take the hint, Noles quietly swipes Bill's wand on the parchment below mine, and returns it to him, all the while giving him a meaningful look I cannot understand. There is some undercurrents passing between them that I am having difficulty interpreting. Finally, Bill turns to me with a pleasant, yet professional smile making me feel like a stranger meeting him for the first time and not someone who has seen him half naked just a few nights ago. The thought irritated me, as does the fact that I can still see him standing only half dressed in my bedroom, his now bright blue eyes shining like sapphires in the near darkness. Without another word, he makes the universal gesture of lead the way and follows me to the wooden door leading to the endlessly long corridor with doors. As soon as the door to his cabin close, he turns to me and say, "Ms. Delacour, you really shouldn't mess with goblins. They can be very mean and foul, and play a very dirty game. You should stir as clear from them as you can." And all at once, my suppressed sass and hautiness - my frustration of being polite to him when all I wanted was to have more than just cordial relationship with him, return to the surface with vengeance. Placing my hands on my hips and throwing my hair over my shoulder I say, "Eh! I should steer clear of zem! First of all, mon nom est Fleur, 'ear eet? je m'appelle Fleur. I theenk you can call me fleur insteeed of Mees Delacour after 'aving me see you 'alf naked. Second ees zat, eet ees veery difficult to eegnore goblins because ze place ees overflowing with zem and zey are people who- what waz zat? Mazz- mess! Zey are ze people who mess with me, and je- um, I am not one of ze people who weel take their nastiness like zat. Zey must respect me for what I am and what I do, and eef zey don't? Zen zey weel 'ear eet from me. And third, I can take parfait care for myself, and do not need a sauveur to 'elp me with everytheeng. Eef I need to, zen I can tell zem exactly where to put zer nasty, snarky selfs without anyone 'elping me do eet!" I finished, with my voice several octaves higher than where I had started. Bill stares at me for a few moments in silence, while I breath erratically, having forgotten to breath in my self righteous speech. Finally I huff and cross my arms, my pista green silk robe feeling cool on the overheated skin of my forearms, my whole body on fire from blood pumping too fast in my veins. Whether this is from my breathless speech, the burst of adrenaline in my veins or my mention of seeing him naked - alright, half naked - that night, I have no idea. Whatever it is, I am acutely aware of a faint flush spreading from my neck up to my cheeks, and an increasing urge to squirm under his silent, impassive gaze. As I try to stare defiantly back at him, I notice a slight twitch in his tightly pressed lips. My eyes widen with sudden realisation that he is trying very hard to suppress his laugh. I glower at him, challenging him to laugh with a slight tilt of my head, and that seems to be where his control ends, for a booming, head thrown back, deep from the stomach and whole body shaking laugh leaves him. And just like that, all anger and defiance drains from me. I feel mesmerized as I watch him laugh a booming, happy laugh, my whole being blossoming at the sight of such a glorious, happy display of amusement, his eyes streaming and his face glowing.
I am used to dainty, sophisticated laughs that cannot be heard to people standing 2 feet away from you or a soft, silent chuckle to show amusement, as loudness in expressing sentiments is epitome of unsophistication, according to Madame Maxime. And men, generally, are too dazzled around me to spot a joke, much less laugh on it. But the deep bass-like male laugh coming from Bill makes me wish to be the reason - the only reason - every time he laughed like this. As I stand staring at him, with a small smile on my face and the startling thought of being the reason for his laughter in the future on my mind, he slowly calms down, clearing his throat a few times and wiping his eyes, in a hoarse voice he says, "My, my, you are a fire cracker aren't you, Ms. Delac - I mean, Fleur? You are right, I can call you by your given name after... Well after having you both here and so close at home, and you are also quite right about not needing to be rescued from every situation all the time. You are more than capable of doing that yourself. But, Fleur, Noles is a particularly nasty piece of work, more so than other goblins here, as he is a very close acquaintance of one of the head goblin named Ragnuk, who is feeling particularly hostile towards wizards these days. And given his recent experience only this summer, he is very vocal about his resentment with wizards and I suspect his acquaintance has picked on his hatred on his behalf a little too vehemently." At my questioning look, he pauses, and hesitate, as if deciding how much to share with me. Finally he starts, "A few months ago, during an inter school tri-wizard tournament, Ragnuk had bet his gold on the winner of the final round and though his winning, or even losing for that matter, is debatable, he feels entitled to the winnings of the bet. But the guy he bet, a ministry official, Ludo Bagman, he fled the scene without giving him any gold, and so Ragnuk feels cheated. He further believes that the ministry is conspiring to hide evidence against his rightful wins. That is why Noles-" he stops, probably just noticing my face which I suspect, has gone as stark white as the walls of Gringotts. The tri-wizard tournament. My tri-wizard tournament! I can only guess what the bet had been and how even when undecided about anyone winning, goblins still considered that they are entitled to winning. Bill stares at me for a few moments , then moves closer to me and places a hand on my arm, concern etched on his face. "Are you feeling alright, Fleur?" I shake my head and swallow hard while I feel my knees buckle. For a split second, I think I am going to fall face first on the marble floor, but then I find myself surrounded by warmth, my face pressed in the lean, solid and comforting warmth of Bill's chest. He leads me towards sitting area, lowering me on the couch. I can't understand my reaction to the mention of tri-wizard tournament. It's not like I haven't heard of it for last month of school. Everyone talked about it all the time; the tasks, the winner, the judges and ofcourse, the accident. But never have I ever been reduced to a melting puddle at just a mention of it. Maybe it was because I wasn't expecting Gringotts or goblins to be connected in any manner to that tournament. Maybe that was one of the reasons why I had wanted to come here at Gringotts, so that I may be near the happenings of the events that had followed that incident, but I can still stay detached from the past. Bill stares at me for a while, his handsome face blank, but I can see the wheels in his mind turning at without a stop. Finally he asks me, "how are you connected to all this? The tri-wizard tournament and what-" sudden awareness dawns on his face and he eyes me like he is looking at me for the first time. "Cedric Diggory," he says, not making these two words a question but demanding answers, none the less. For some reason, I feel obligated to answer him and so I say, "Oui, Cedric Diggory. I was zer ze night 'e died. I was one of ze champions. Ze champion of Beuxbatons. And eet ees ze first time I 'ave ever seen someone I knew to die. I don't know eef you 'ave ever experienced eet or not, but even eef you don't see ze person dying, eet ees not sometheeng you forget easily." My words sounded stupid and weak, even in my own ears. Taking a deep breath and trying to shake off embarrassment and the memory of that maze, I say, "Excusez-moi, I deed not mean to turn eento a puddle because of zees. Tu- you just took me by surprise, I theenk." With that, I straighten, letting his hand fall from my back, missing the warmth of his comforting contact. I have no idea what made me say all these things, I might have been taught by my grandma and mother to speak my mind without any fears, but I haven't shared these things with anyone about that night. Part of me felt weak and ashamed to be this affected to the event which neither did I experience myself nor witnessed with my own eyes. But I couldn't wrap my head around the thing that there was a murder of a good friend not very far from me while I lay there stunned by a curse I should have seen coming. I search his face for any kind of resentment, judgement or even pity, but his face only shows the understanding and empathy. As I make to stand, however, he reached out and tapped my shoulder lightly, indicating me to sit down again. For a moment, I think he is about to question me on what I had just told him but when he opens his mouth, the words are completely different. "I don't think you are to start your work right away Ms. Del- Fleur. I seem to remember that I promised you one hour session everyday to improve your English."
"But you said from 11am to 12 pm, deedn't you?" I ask, checking the time in my small pocket watch, which I got as a gift on coming of age by my parents. He chuckles softly and replies, "Why, yes I did say that 11 to 12 will be your lesson, but by that time we will be engrossed in work so much that we might miss the time all together, which you have to admit, has been happening for 4 days now. No point in working for an hour then breaking up for lessons for another hour, only to work one hour after it and breakup again for the lunch at 1pm." It did make sense, so I sit back and ask, "Alright. So, where do we start?"
It is 1.15 pm when I head out of Bill's office, making my way out of the corridor towards one of the many doors on the other side of hall. Bill has already left for lunch having completed his work much faster than me. He had offered to stay back to accompany me to the lunch mess, but having already figured out the way myself by now and wanting to finish my ongoing roll of parchment, I had waved him off to carry on, telling him I will join him right there. As I cross the huge marble hall, my mind replays this morning, so much different from all the others I had spent in Bill's company for the past week. I had been sure that with my irrational emotional outbreak this morning, the day was going to go down the drain. But so far, it was turning into one of the best I had had in a long time. For one, Bill was neither ignoring me, nor was giving me a cold shoulder. It seemed like some sort of barrier has broken within him that had kept him wary of me all of the last 4 days, not to mention that my veela enchantment seemed to be having less and less effect on him with passing time. But then, being a curse breaker for many years, that was to be expected of him, fighting off enchantments like that. What was not expected, however, was his skill as a teacher. To say his lesson was unconventional was putting it mildly, as I had thought he will go in a full fledged teaching mode, making me write and say words, maybe even assign a few reading work like they did in schools. But he coached me of the language as if having an everyday, normal conversation with a friend, only correcting me when I would slip a French word here and there, showing me the English word for it and making me repeat it again. He told me things about himself, like, his education, his days at Hogwarts, his work in Egypt, his wizard friend and fellow curse breaker Zohrab, his pen friend from childhood, his favorite books to read. In return, he asked me to tell him about my school, the most fascinating subjects I found there, graduation, my home in Paris, my friend from Peru who was my roommate in Beuxbatons. At the end of the lesson, it didn't feel like a lesson at all, but more like a pleasant get-to-know-you chat between two budding friends. He had not even bothered to hide behind his usual pile of books today, instead made sure that I had a clear line of vision to him so that I may feel free to ask him anything I liked. As I reach the door to the mess, I find that I have a smile on my face, entering the door leading to mess. The mess at Gringotts is a large room with a long table connecting from the door wall to the wall at the opposite end of the room. The long table is laden with a variety of dishes, desserts, drinks and fruits all courtesy of the house elfs who stand behind the table, nearly invisible behind pile of food, standing there to serve food to employees, as most goblins find it difficult to reach the top of table. The rest of the room is divided into magically formed cubicles having one table in each cubicle seating at least 6 people, the cubicle walls high enough to provide privacy. I make my way to the stack of golden plates at the start of the table, near the door and walk up the length of the table to select my lunch. Most of food here are either goblin specialized or unknown dishes I have no intention to trying. I laden my plate with fresh fruits, mashed potatoes, what looks like pieces of steak cut in smaller size and looking very well grilled. I usually prefer my steak a little raw, but it seems that the British like their steak well cooked. I pick up a silver goblet of wine and make my way to the cubicle, my eyes searching for a certain red head curse breaker. I don't have to look long, as most employees - including goblins - usually head out to eat, leaving a select few to eat in the mess. I spot the flaming red hairs, tied up at the nape of the neck at the far end of the room, sitting in the cubicle, his back to me. I make my way to him, only to stop short as I hear a gravelly voice, sounding like minute stones crunching on the path under the carriage wheel, coming from the same cubicle that is currently occupied by Bill, completing a sentence I did not hear with a word, "... Veela." I know I should move - long buried memory of my british grandma reawakening and saying, "Fleur, my dear, one must not eavesdrop. You know what they say about eavesdroppers, dear...listen long enough and you'll hear something bad about yourself." ringing in my ear - but I stand rooted in the spot, helpless to hear none the less as I hear Bill's reply, "Part veela. I don't believe that Flue- Ms. Delacour is a full veela, as the enchantment, though still there, is not as maddeningly strong as a real veela's is. And so what if she is? I am not talking about my assistant, Ragnuk. What does she have anything to do with what I just told you?" Bill's voice sounds like he's trying hard not to let the politeness slip from his tone. Ragnuk, however, seems to be bent on getting any manner of consideration out of the conversation all together. He continues, "Well, Nolen told me what happened this morning at the reception. How you jumped to her defense in a second when you have known her for not more than 5 to 6 days, and have been working with goblins for nearly 6 to 7 years. If you can side up with a fellow witch in such short notice, what does that say about your loyalties towards us goblins? Why would I trust you if you switch sides to the witch's side faster than you can say boo?" Bill sigh and reply, "Ragnuk, you know how Noles is. He was bullying her, and if proving my loyalties to you means I have to bully a girl, or even let them do it, then you are going to be sorely disappointed. My mum raised me better than that, Ragnuk. Ms. Delacour has nothing to do with what I have been proposing you for a few weeks now, and my standing up for her or helping her out is an unfair way to measure my loyalties. I have been working with you lot for nearly 8 years now. You have known me personally for more than 5 years, and never have I ever given any goblin any reason to judge my loyalty." The goblin was quiet for a few minutes while I wonder whether I should just turn around and sit in a cubicle far away from them. I have a feeling that I am not going to like what will be said next, but I still stand there, wanting to hear it anyway. Ragnuk, apparently, not wanting to give up quietly say, "I hear you are giving her private English lesson. Think you have developed a soft spot for this girl - or rather, part veela - Weasley. I don't trust wizards, much less the part-time assistant girls with veela heritages." For some reason, listening to this nasty goblin claim that Bill has a soft spot for me makes something loosen up in my chest, a knot I didn't know was there, and which, I suspect, had formed the when I had heard Ragnuk utter the word veela. Now when Bill spoke though, he sounded angry, "Soft spot! Ragnuk, she has been here for not a full week, for the love of the God! I barely know her, much less develop any soft or hard spots for her. If I stop a girl from getting bullied or misbehaved, it doesn't mean I have a soft spot for her. She is just a girl - beautiful girl, admittedly - but a common, ordinary girl nonetheless. You have known me for 5 years now, and if my behavior towards a part time assistant here, who has been here for just a whole of 5 days now - which completes today mind you - makes you question my worth and loyalty to you then I don't know what else to say to you." With that Bill stands up from his seat, leaving the privacy of the cubicle and turning, only to freeze for the third time in one week when his gaze landed on me. I am not really sure what expression I have on my face right this moment, but whatever it is couldn't have been pleasant one. Nothing I felt right now is pleasant. That knot in my chest that had loosened at Ragnuk's words is tighter than ever now, shifting to my throat and making it hard to swallow. I still hold my plate and goblet untouched in my hand, but I know I wouldn't be able to intake any of those, any time soon. Quietly I place it, at a table nearby without really seeing where, turned on my heels and headed out of the mess, onto the hall and soon, out of the big bronze doors of Gringotts. I didn't know why I feel so hurt listening to his words. Nothing he has said is a lie, or even mean for that matter, still I couldn't shake off this wretched feeling from my heart. Soon, I am aware that I am not walking alone, for Bill has decided to join me. He is walking quietly alongside me, giving me time to process what exactly was it that was feeling like a burning hole in my throat. Finally, I manage to say the words running through my mind, speaking mostly to myself, "I do not know why I am not feeling 'appy. I 'ad come to Gringotts to be treated as a normal fille, and yet I am not 'appy when I am treated like one. I must be losing my 'ead." I shake my head, trying to control my thoughts, not wanting to have another ourburst in one day. His quiet voice, however, breaks through my misery as he says, "That is not what I meant Fleur. I am sorry that my words have hurt you." "Non, non. Don't be," I replied with a sigh, walking on the busy street of Diagon alley, the shoppers around us milling about, minding their own business; ignoring us. I continue, still speaking almost to myself more than anyone else, "Tu-You deedn't any wrong. I am juzt being stupide. I reeally should 'ave 'ad ze idea zat you dislike me from ze start. I mean you just transferred 'ere and who would want an assistant who needs to be taught 'ow to speak before she can even do ze work? I won't even blâme you for theenking me a burden and ralen- slowing you down but as you are good boy, you would want to 'elp me as you would to anyone in my place because, of course, I really am a ordi-" but before I could complete my sentence, I am forced to stop by a big, warm hand holding mine. I turn and see Bill's face, all his boyish charm and laid back demeanor gone from his face and instead showing grim determination. "I didn't mean you aren't special, Fleur. You might be just like any other girl, but you should know that you are anything but ordinary. Because if you were a just-like-any-other girl, I would never have taken all the pains to avoid looking at you first thing in the morning and lose my focus all day, or to keep a large pile of books in front of me so I could at least manage to get some work done by not looking at you. And believe me when I say all this, I don't mean to speak anything about your maddening veela enchantment - which does seems to be dimming with each passing day, come to think of it -" he mutters that part almost to himself, shifting his eyes from mine for a second, as if only just considering the possibility. His eyes shift back to mine, looking cloudlessly blue like the uncommon sky of London today, and continue, "Good thing too, because as I am growing resistant to the enchantment with each passing day, you are making me admire the girl behind that foggy spell more and more every time. The girl who is determined to survive in an environment where her coworkers are in constant effort of bullying her, where her boss is trying his best to avoid her, where she has no friends and have hope of making one as small as a beetle, any of which is enough to drive any weaker girl away, but not you. Not you, Ms. Delacour," shaking his head. Then sighing with a smile that is almost guilty looking he confesses, "No ordinary girl has ever, or will ever, make me recheck her enchantments on the door every night, or keep a close attention for any sound of distress - or any sound at all - from my side of the wall. Or make me want to protect her any way I could, even if that means I have to undermine her value to me..." He trails off as I stare at him, unable to comprehend his words. There hhas to be something I am missing here, "ask", my mind advice's sagely, " you won't know any other way, Fleur" and so I do. "What do you meen, Beel? Deed you tell lies to 'im, zat goblin, Ragnuk? Or are you juzt saying all zees to make me feel good?" Hearing my words, he smile a dazzling half smile, making me realise how close I am standing to him and say, "my mum raised me better than to be a sweet talker, Fleur. I don't say these kind of things if I don't mean them." He steps even closer to me, cupping my face with one of his warm palm and say with a smallest smile I have ever seen on him. In a mistily soft voice he says, "You, Ms. Fleur Delacour, are one of a kind because of things are there behind you pretty face but which generally gets clouded by your enchanted beauty. Trust me, I would know, having seen quite a few curses wrapped in beautiful packages like yours. Your curse is your enchanted beauty, which overshadows your unparalleled qualities. Never let anyone's words, not even mine, undermine your real value in your own eyes." With that, he releases me and stepped back with a smile that said he knew he has managed to get his point across, leaving me slightly stunned and say, "come now Ms. Delacour. It's the last day of your first week here. Let's finish up so that after precisely two hours, your git of a boss can give you a well deserved treat for an excellent first week and first well done first lesson". Winking, he turns and gestures for me to lead the way back to the Gringotts building, all the while unaware that my heart hasn't stopped somersaulting from the moment he had touched my hand. Somewhere in the back of my mind is a rejoicing knowledge that, for once, a goblin was right about Bill having a soft spot for me, indeed. Who knew, that a day like this will come when I will be feeling elated at a goblin's snide comment.