This is a one-shot set after Deathly Hallows Chapter 5, Fallen Warrior. As it is in Fleur's perspective, I haven't included the accent which the narrator writes her as having in the books. I hope you enjoy this story.
Steam
It was quiet now. Most people had drifted off to their bedrooms, or the rooms they were staying in tonight. Characteristically, Mr and Mrs Weasley had invited most of the order to stay the night. After the bustle of the day and the drama of the evening, the house seemed eerily quiet and still. Fleur had always felt claustrophobic here. Too much noise, people, and mess. Fleur's future in-laws seemed to believe that there was a charm to their ramshackle untidiness. In a small family like Fleur's, this may have been plausible. After all, Fleur wouldn't claim to be the tidiest person in the world. But in a family of nine, plus hangers-on, the clutter was ridiculous. What irked Fleur was the most was the smugness with which the Weasley viewed their disorderliness. They seemingly thought it made their home appear welcoming and friendly, though Fleur hadn't felt welcome here. She'd felt patronised, distrusted, bewildered and mocked. Things had been slightly better in the last few weeks, but she still couldn't wait to move out. The house she and Bill wanted- Fleur's married home- wouldn't be obsessively tidy, but it wouldn't be Weasley chaotic either. It would be tidy enough for people to walk through without tripping over shoes or getting splinters from door frames, but not so strict as to make guests feel unrelaxed.
Fleur needed to relax tonight. She slunk into the Burrow's downstairs toilet, sat on the seat, and tapped her wand on the top of the cistern to make the packet of cigarettes she'd hidden there dislodge itself from the cobwebby gap between the cistern and the wall.
Fleur had started smoking again recently, partly because it would keep her thin for the wedding, and partly because it helped her to de-stress from the hectic few weeks: Dumbledore's death, building up to her wedding, finalising arrangements for fetching Harry from his relatives', and the growing fear and tension which was everywhere nowadays. Smoking was a dirty secret only her fiancé knew about, and though Bill disapproved, Fleur liked to remember the way he had smiled at her when she had sat sideways on his bedroom windowsill, cigarette in hand, skirt pulled up and feet against the opposite side of the sill. Bill given her a look which made her feel seen. Her whole life, Fleur had been looked at and admired, but her fiancée was the first man who had made Fleur feel like he was truly seeing her.
Her fiancée wasn't here now. Bill and Remus left over an hour ago to find Mad-Eye Moody's body. Fleur wished she had asked to go too, but she hadn't been expecting Remus to announce that it was a task that needed doing, and once Bill volunteered, he and Remus left immediately. Bill had given her a quick hug and kiss goodbye, and then he was gone. Fleur wanted to be there too- she witnessed the death, so she'd be more useful than Remus. Plus, she owed it to Mad-Eye.
The loss of the oldest, toughest Auror and Order member had hit everybody hard. Harry, who Fleur had always viewed as placid, flared up, and Mrs Weasley had been hysterical. Fleur hadn't known him so well so, now the shock of witnessing his death was clearing, she felt mostly panic. Another life lost, another weakness of the Order, another proof that somebody had made a mistake, or worse.
Fleur took the packet of cigarettes and wandered into the garden. There was a bench she liked to smoke on, positioned at an angle which meant it couldn't be seen from Mrs and Mrs Weasley's bedroom. Fleur was unsure if that was coincidence, or if Fred and George had once deliberately moved it there.
The night was dark enough, and Fleur was distracted enough, that she was it right next to the bench before she realised someone was already sitting on it. Tonks was cross-legged on the seat, head in her hands. She was sobbing. Fleur instinctively stepped backwards, but Tonks' face shot up. They locked eyes and stared at each other. Fleur froze.
Eventually, Tonks sighed. "It's alright. D'you wanna sit down?"
Fleur's hesitation must have been plain on her face, because Tonks scoffed and added, "We're both waiting for them. Might as well wait together,"
She was right. There was nobody else here to empathise. Cautiously, Fleur sat down beside Tonks and, as a gesture of reciprocation, held out the cigarette packet.
"Can I? Cheers," said Tonks, snatching a cigarette, lighting it with the tip of her wand, and taking a drag. She moved in the manner of someone practised at this, which surprised Fleur. Were Aurors allowed to smoke?
Tonks must have been having the same thought, because she glanced and Fleur and said, "Didn't have you down as a smoker,"
Have you down. That was an English phrase which meant "thought you were". It sounded bafflingly similar to "feeling down," which meant the same as "being down," but not "being down for". "Going down," had two different meanings.
"I don't smoke usually," Fleur insisted hurriedly.
"That's what I say, too. Be a lot easier to keep to it if people didn't keep fucking dying,"
"I'm sorry for your loss,"
Tonks' eyes swam with tears. "Thanks," she said thickly.
Fleur glanced away, embarrassed. She didn't like Tonks particularly, mostly because she could tell that Tonks didn't like her. Fleur was used to that from women, especially here in England. Although her future mother-in-law and sister-in-law had been softer over the last few weeks, and the twins were making fewer crass jokes (at least not in Fleur's earshot, which was fine because Fleur didn't care what Fred and George did most of the time). Tonks also spoke too fast and too loud and had the same smug tomboyishness that Ginny and Bill's friend Sindhi did. Femininity, Fleur knew they believed, was frivolous. Girls could only be strong if they wore clunky boots (Tonks), brothers' cast-offs (Ginny) or grubby dungarees (Sindhi). It wasn't that they were disinterested in looking attractive, but that they seemed adverse to the concept of elegance. Sexiness could apparently only be achieved through short-shorts, miniskirts, men's shirts worn over tight t-shirts. Ginny and Tonks did wear dresses, but not graceful ones. Ginny was a teenager, but Tonks was older than Fleur was. She should have learnt how to dress properly by now.
"Bet your family think you're mental, getting mixed up in all this," Tonks sighed, puffing on her cigarette.
Fleur squirmed. "I don't tell them everything," she admitted.
"It's international news," Tonks pointed out.
"I tell them it's all," Fleur explained, trying to remember the English for the idiom, "Puffed out of portion,"
"And they believe that?"
Maman kept up with current affairs more than Papa, so she was more likely to press Fleur for details. When she'd last visited home, Fleur had planned ways to avoid Maman and her questions. That broke her heart. In letters home she rambled about the wedding, and English food and weather, her job and her friends. She avoided answering most questions. Questions from Gabby were the worst: At school we're learning about what's happening in Britain, and I told Madam Bobier that you said it'll all be over soon. That's still true, isn't it? Everyone thought it was cool that I met Harry Potter!
"I don't know," Fleur confessed, twiddling her cigarette, "It's hard. I worry it's making a gap between us. When they arrive here I'm need to make them them too busy to they find out how serious things are,"
"You're close to them?"
"Very close with my sister. She is only fourteen. I think I am close with Maman and Papa," Fleur estimated. It was tricky to tell. Every family had different ideas about closeness.
"Lucky you," said Tonks, "Me and my mum are like-"
She knocked her fists together.
"Always?"
"Pretty much. You know who her sisters are?"
Fleur nodded. Tonks was the niece of Bellatrix Lestrange, and her cousin was the Draco Malfoy boy who tried to kill Dumbledore. Bill had explained that the Black family were prone to estrangements and disownments, and that Tonks' mother and Sirius Black had both escaped the family when they were teenagers.
"Right, so she's nuts when it comes to family," Tonks explained wearily.
Fleur nodded, unsurprised by this.
"She's always hated my hair, then she hated my tattoos, she hates my accent even though it's literally dad's. I don't think she hates me being an auror but God forbid she knows how to talk about it," Tonks continued. Then she muttered softly, "She's horrible about Remus. I can ignore everything else but I can't have her say those things about him,"
"I understand," said Fleur. People saw her and Bill in a similar way. Molly had said "was going to be married" as if Fleur wouldn't want to be his wife anymore because he was sullied and damaged. Fleur had been livid.
"It's crap, isn't it?" murmured Tonks. Her tone was sad and resigned, and Fleur felt the lividity flare again.
"Fuck Greyback," she spat.
"Cheers to that. Fuck Greyback!"
"Not even a proper Death Eater!" giggled Fleur.
"Fenrir Greyback sucks balls!" Tonks crowed.
They sniggered together, and Fleur felt a strange catharsis wash over her, so much so that she admitted something she hadn't verbalised before: "If the Order could capture people, I would hurt him,"
Tonks grinned wickedly. "The Order can't, but the Ministry can. If we ever get Greyback behind bars I'll send you an owl. You can have a turn after me, but I call bagsy on the first cruciatus. Don't tell Remus I said that," she added hurriedly. The joviality of the moment had popped with the word "cruciatus", and they both knew it.
"There are lots of things you don't tell your husband?" probed Fleur.
"No. Well, some. Remus isn't like Bill. He's easily panicked. I threw up this morning and I knew he'd only stress if I told him,"
"Are you ill?"
"I'm fine. Probably just ate something dodgy,"
Fleur resisted the temptation to make a jibe about English food.
"D'you get through the full moon alright?" asked Tonks, too loudly to be a natural change of subject.
"We were afraid. But we managed,"
"Was he ill or anything?"
"He said he felt unwell, but we think perhaps that was because of the…" Fleur struggled to remember the word, "Memory? His mind was hurt,"
"Trauma?"
"Ah, yes. Because of the trauma,"
"Mmm, must be tough being a- oh right, not being a werewolf," Tonks drawled.
"Nobody thinks that. Nobody thinks it is more difficult for us than for you," Fleur retorted.
"Literally everybody thinks that. People feel sorry for you because you were already with your husband when he was attacked. It wasn't your choice. You look all loving and noble, like you're making some big sacrifice to stay with him. Nobody feels sorry for me. People think I'm mental, or I'm sick, or I've got a creepy fetish. Or they just think I'm an idiot. Your husband has his scars on his face to make people feel sorry for him, or they'll think he's brave. It might look cool one day. Remus has one scar, just one, and nobody ever sees it but it's ruined his fucking life,"
She burst into tears again and Fluer recoiled, baffled and insulted. She thought they'd been conversing in a vaguely friendly manner, so the outburst was unexpected. What Tonks had said was unexpected, too. Fleur hadn't thought of this from her perspective before. Tonks was jealous of her. Fleur had spent her life being envied by other women because of her appearance, and the last couple of years being envied because of her sweet, suave, sexy, successful husband-to-be. She had never been envied because her husband was not a werewolf. But of course Tonks felt that way. The pity Fleur had experienced from others over the last few weeks had grated, because Fleur was not used to pity. The pity directed at Fleur must grate for Tonks too, but because Tonks didn't believe Fleur deserved it. Did Tonks want pity? But she was right when she said that she'd chosen Remus. Could you choose who you feel in love with? Fleur supposed that as a nearly-married woman she was supposed to know the answer, though looking at Tonks and Remus' situation, she wasn't sure.
Tonks scrubbed her sleeve over her face. "Sorry. 'S not your fault. I'm just..I dunno, I'm happy for you he didn't get bitten properly but it's…everything is so unfair,"
She was right about that.
"I'm sorry about Remus," said Fleur, realising that she should say something like this. Remus had been a werewolf for years. It was a part of him. And it had been frightening and sickening at first. Fleur had never viewed it as an "I'm sorry" sort of thing.
"Cheers," nodded Tonks. She sniffed unattractively, took a deep drag, and exhaled a big breath of smoke into the air. Fleur watched it spread and disintegrate. She stabbed her own cigarette in her mouth and inhaled a brief, sharp breath.
"Maybe this sounds crazy, but I still feel like the luckiest person in the world," mumbled Tonks.
"Same," Fleur nodded.
"I hope they're safe out there without you and me to protect them,"
"Same," she repeated, then realised, "We are the same in some ways, you and I?"
"Yeah?"
Fleur pointed to her face, then to Tonks'. "We look different to other people,"
Tonks barked a laugh. "Suppose we do. It's brilliant, isn't it?"
"Yes," agreed Fleur, "Who is it from in your family?"
"Nobody. I just got lucky," explained Tonks, "Or I'm a freak,"
"People say this to you?"
"How d'you think I got good at duelling?" Tonks answered, and Fleur couldn't tell if this was a joke, "Does anyone say that kind of stuff to you? Le Freake,"
Fleur had no recollection of ever being asked that question before. "A little. Sometimes it is hard for people to understand,"
"Understand what?" Tonks pressed, unhelpfully.
Fleur wasn't sure she could verbalise the answer. "How I can be born so beautiful-" she began, but Tonks interrupted with a splutter of laughter.
"You asked the question," Fleur pointed out waspishly, "I thought you understood,"
"No, I do. Sorry. It's just sometimes you sound so you," Tonks chortled, "Sorry, I'm done, what were you saying?"
"Women are jealous, you know this. Men can be angry with me. They think it is a deception,"
"Deception's more my specialism,"
Fleur wished Tonks would stop interrupting her. She didn't often get to speak about this, least of all with somebody else who had a unique appearance.
"It is easy for people to love how I look but not care about me. Or not like me. Men and women," she said pointedly.
"Bet you've had all sorts of pervs after you," said Tonks, and it didn't escape Fleur that she was dodging the point about women not liking her.
"How do you think I got good at duelling?" she echoed.
Tonks laughed. Then she asked, "Would you swap it to look normal?"
"No,"
"Same,"
"To look normal would be terrible,"
"I know. Imagine! I'd be bored out of my skull,"
"What's the worst you've been asked?"
"People asking if I can grow a cock is pretty vile, but I've had that question since I was little, so I'm used to it, (Fleur shuddered at the memory that she'd had a cock earlier, a teenage boys' cock at that), "Same with Is that your real face? - if I had a knut every time I got asked that, I could resign tomorrow,"
"Don't you like your job?"
"No, I do! It's an expression, it means…well, it means I get asked that all the time," Tonks clarified, then added softly, "But work'll be crap without Mad-Eye. He'd retired but he was always turning up still and bossing everybody around,"
"I didn't know him well,"
"Nah, not many people did,"
"Tell me about him,"
Tonks thought for a few moments, then said, "He's dead, which means I can't kill me for telling you this: Floo makes him sick. Literally, physically throwing up. He tried to avoid it if he could because he didn't like anyone thinking he has such a mundane weakness. Umm, what else? He doesn't like the name Alastor because people try to make it Al or Rory or Lasty. But for some reason he liked being called Mad-Eye! Oh, and he played Keeper for Ravenclaw for a year,"
This was more information about Mad-Eye Moody than Fleur had learnt since she met him over a year ago.
"Anyway, what about your career?" Tonks ploughed on, "You gonna stay at Gringotts?"
"I think so. If I stay where I am I can be making good money soon. One day I would like to work with international banks in France, Italy. And I am good with numbers,"
"Are you?"
"Yes. People do not expect this of me. It is forgotten that I am a Triwizard Champion. People do not think I have ambition, that I want to make my own money, that I like mathematics,"
"D'you like goblins?" asked Tonks.
"No, but I do not have to work with them so much. The higher level I get to, the less goblins I talk to,"
"That's a relief,"
"You too work with them?"
"A bit. Not if we can avoid it, and probably less now the Death Eaters are getting more powerful. So, silver linings,"
"You ask if people call me a freak. Death Eaters say I am much worse," said Fleur.
"I know. I'm sorry about that,"
"Thank you,"
Fleur stubbed her ebbing cigarette out on the arm of the bench, and vanished the remnants. Tonks was still smoking hers, so Fleur didn't light up another. She looked out across the garden and couldn't help but mutter:
"I can't believe I'm getting married here,"
"Why?"
"We talked about a wedding in Casablanca. Or Mauvezin. Then we realise we have to get married here- I think, fine, even though it will be my family to travel. So we get married in Cornwall. No, we get married in Weymouth. But no, we have to get married in this garden. In a tent,"
"Snap," said Tonks hollowly.
"Your wedding was the same?"
"Our wedding makes yours look spectacular,"
"How so?"
"It was tiny, and it was in the middle of nowhere,"
"Is that what you wanted?"
"Remus was stressing about it. He prefers us to be discreet anyway, and in the current climate…" Tonks explained, then tailed off.
"Is that what you wanted?" Fleur repeated.
"I'd have liked my friends to be there. It was just Mum and Dad. When this is all over I'm having a massive party. Not like this- Molly will be invited strictly in a guest capacity, not an organiser. It's gonna be music and cake and everyone having a laugh and getting hammered,"
"You think this will be over? When?"
"Dunno. Depends on a lot, doesn't it? Hard to say on a night like tonight," she winced, then said in a pained voice, "Fuck, Mad-Eye,"
She groaned and rested her temple heavily on her knuckles, and Fleur felt so sorry for her that she reached over and put her hand on Tonks' shoulder. Tonks glanced back, and gave Fleur a small, thankful smile. Fleur mirrored it and shrugged sympathetically. Tonks had told her more facts about Mad-Eye than Fleur ever knew before, but she'd also learnt more about Tonks. She'd never talked to her this much or this deeply. She hadn't considered that Tonks had emotions deeper than the ones she broadcast noisily to the world. Perhaps, Fleur reflected, Tonks thought the same way about her. Maybe they'd both been dismissing each other. There was just so much to dismiss in England. English words didn't seem to suit the moment either, so Fleur said nothing, and gave Tonks' shoulder a gentle squeeze instead. They didn't need to speak. They should stay here, silent and united in their strange similarities, with the flicking cigarette tip glowing orange in the dark.
Thank you for reading. Please review to let me know what you thought.